


A Step Back From World's End

by WareWolf



Series: Best Endeavours [4]
Category: Blood Books - Tanya Huff, Supernatural
Genre: AU from season 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crobby - Freeform, Crowley Lives (Supernatural), Established relationship Crowley/Bobby, M/M, Ruler of Hell Crowley (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WareWolf/pseuds/WareWolf
Summary: Everyone is doing their best to get over the effects of Lucifer's worldwide rampage:   Bobby Singer and his household of one demon king and one teenager return to Sioux Falls.   Rowena extracts a promise from Crowley that he very much does not want to give.
Relationships: Crowley/Bobby Singer
Series: Best Endeavours [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1236065
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece set a few months after the end of my last fic, The World Next Door and is part of that Crowley and Bobby centric AU. 
> 
> **************************************************

Bobby Singer woke from a sleep made restive by dreams that didn’t remain past a few edgy seconds of waking. He stretched, cracked, sighed and got out of bed to go looking for a demon. Hearing voices, he didn’t need to search for long before running them to ground in the living room/kitchen of their current house. 

They were at the table; his teenaged foster daughter Kyra – and how had _that_ ever happened? – and the person who looked like a short, broadly built man with dark hair and beard, apparently in his mid-fifties and the current love of Bobby’s life. There were books open on the table and a notepad in front of Kyra, rather than a laptop computer or other high tech device. These days, power access was at best sporadic, though the government kept promising it would improve.

_Like you can ever really come back from apocalypse._

“You aren’t thinking this through, darling,” said Crowley, erstwhile King of Hell. He picked up his tea – cup and an actual saucer, for some dark god’s sake – and sipped, glancing over at Bobby. “Coffee on the stove,” he added, returning his focus to Kyra.

“Why can’t _I_ have coffee? You’re expecting me to work this stuff out first thing in the morning on _juice_?”

“Yes, I am,” Crowley said. The smooth, almost silky tone of his voice made Bobby wince in sympathy and head quickly to the kitchen end of the big room to be out of the line of fire. He knew Kyra had expected homeschool to be way easier than regular school, but seriously, had she met Crowley? “I’ve pointed out to you, _with_ pictures and descriptions, what’s likely to happen to your insides if you do this sort of magic without surgical precision, haven’t I? If you don’t have these concepts clear in your mind, you’re going to be a bubbling red mess on the ground which will upset Bobby and which I will no doubt have to clean up. For effective magic, you need mathematics and you need focus. You’re the one who wants to get the boy back, sweetheart. It would be a pity if he returns only to look down at your twitching remains.”

He rose from the table without another glance at her and strolled casually to where Bobby was taking the first nectar sip of brewed coffee. The hunter regarded the smirk on Crowley’s face and shook his head. “You’re so mean,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss the demon’s neatly bearded cheek. 

“Demon, darling,” Crowley murmured.

“What do you bet she’s going to ask to go back to school?”

Crowley glanced back towards Kyra, now studiously at work or at least looking like it. A flicker of worry passed through his expression and he shook his head. “That school’s barely functional,” he said, dismissing the idea. Bobby nodded. 

“Also not a great idea right now anyway,” he admitted. “A lot of the kids have come down with flu, the last coupla weeks.”

“That sickness,” the demon agreed. With the fracturing of the nation’’s infrastructure had come illness, always swift to take advantage of its prey’s weaknesses. Among all the little ailments of the body, there were some not quite so harmless. Among those was a particularly virulent form of influenza which had spread swiftly, since far fewer people had been able to get vaccinated this year.

Since they had returned to Sioux Falls, or at least the outskirts of the city, they’d remained at a distance from the attempts of civilisation to restabilise itself. For a while the National Guard had been about, quelling the more lawless of the populace while remaining ignorant of the other dangers, those which Lucifer had released from their prisons. He had been in communication with Jax and others back in Charming, where the soldiers had come into conflict with the Sons of Anarchy, who didn’t care to lose their position as alpha wolves in the community.

Things were still bubbling there, by all accounts. Sioux Falls was calmer and had suffered less from wide scale disruptions but still, the foundations had been damaged. Surviving teachers able to take up their role were few and the schools, at least for older kids, were more like holding pens, complete with security guards to enforce order. That was no place for Kyra and Bobby had encouraged her wish to at least try homeschooling. Not that what she was learning was exactly typical in a public high school. Oh, she was being drilled in the basics, but Crowley’s view of said basics was brutally narrow. 

Kyra would come out of this able to perform ceremonial magic more effectively than Bobby himself, having learned his skills as an adult and in a catch-as-catch-can fashion, rather than being tutored by an honest-to-Hell demon. But her understanding, say, of great works of literature or other subjects which Crowley called “non-essentials” was likely to be fairly truncated.

She was fourteen. That wasn’t as young as it used to be. With the training she was getting from both of them, she would effectively be an adult very soon, in no more than another year or two. Then let the system try to fit her into a box. Bobby rather looked forward to seeing it try.

Bobby sighed. He was another one not as young as he used to be, which was why he’d slept in embarrassingly late _again_ , leaving Crowley to get his pupil moving on her studies. Well, not the only reason. He met Crowley’s smirk. The demon stroked his chest teasingly until Bobby seized his hand to stop it travelling lower, giving him a warning look.

“Later, darling,” Crowley murmured. 

“I can hear that,” Kyra announced in a bored tone.

Crowley shook his head. He murmured words, a quick Latin cantrip, and blueish flames surrounded Kyra, who looked up, clearly aware of the spell. She spoke but no sound came from her. She glared at Crowley, who grinned back and pointed at the books.

“I plowed you into the bed so hard last night you were yellin’ for mercy,” Bobby growled very quietly then, savouring the memory despite his embarrassment. “Don’t you ever get enough?”

“Of course not, darling. And it wasn’t mercy I was begging for. I wanted you to shove your….”

“Keep your voice down. Crowley. Even with a damned cone of silence or whatever you did, there’s still a kid in the room. You go back to your tutoring. I’m gonna walk around, make sure all’s okay, and organise some supplies. We’re a bit low on some stuff.”

Crowley nodded, regarding him with that sudden dark grimness he could achieve, which Bobby thought of as him “being King of Hell.” His hand was still resting on the hunter’s chest but now he was not playing. “You’ve got your summoning token to call me if there’s trouble?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Makes me feel like a kid goin’ off to school,” Bobby grumbled. “I won’t be but an hour. Things just felt weird when I woke up, I got to patrol. It’s hotter than it should be, even with summer almost here, and that wind; you feel it?”

“I feel it.” Then a smirk and the teasing was back. “But I’d rather feel you, darling. You think about that on your walk, hmm?”

“I hate you,” Bobby groaned and Crowley’s smirk broadened.

“Hate you too, lover. Don’t be long.”

#

Bobby’s patrol wasn’t just for his peace of mind. Maybe a month after they had returned and taken over this small abandoned house on the city’s edge, a group of their neighbours had come to visit and invited them to join a local militia. Not for an uprising – all of them were weary of conflict – but to do what the remaining police could no longer do, to protect their homes and their kin. Bobby had said he needed to think and he had then gone to see Sheriff Jody Mills, who now headed a skeleton crew of cops in her neighbourhood. To his surprise, she urged him to take up his neighbours’ offer.

“They’re not planning revolution,” she’d said. “I know those folks. Alice Taylor, their leader, she’s been in touch with us. The police, I mean, not the Wayward Sisters.” Bobby smiled at the name. Not in mockery. He’d seen those girls fight. “If she wasn’t already retirement age, I’d have deputised her,” Jody continued. “There’s a reason why the area where you’ve settled is pretty peaceful, even given all the supernatural crap Lucifer set off. Not that they know about that, but they do know about insane weather, breakdown of infrastructure, hunger and roving bands set on rape and murder. When Alice gets to know you a bit, she’ll maybe tell you some of her story, but it’s not mine to tell yet.”

“Don’t think any of us are gonna be retiring any time soon,” the hunter muttered.

“No. Ah – you mentioned Kyra’s with you. What about Crowley?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear about him.”

Jody’s expression tightened, as though she was holding her reactions in. “I like to know what the situation is,” she said.

Bobby sighed. “He’s with me,” he said. “I got no more to say about it, except you don’t have to worry, though I know you will, and report back to Sam and Dean too, no doubt.”

“Have you been in touch with them?”

“Of course, when the phones and computers are workin’. They keep sayin’ all of us should come hole up in the bunker, that we shouldn’t think all the trouble’s over. Which I never do and I don’t think you do either.”

“No. There’s more monsters than there were. Vampires, ghouls, rougarous, things there aren’t names for. The girls and I run ourselves ragged keeping them down. We’ve been thinking of taking on a couple of recruits, though it’s hard to know who to trust. When Lucifer escaped, not all the demons returned to Hell, did they?”

“No. Some of ém defied Crowley’s edict and he’s got teams after them. That’s all I know.”

“Teams of demons and your boyfriend is running them,” Jody said. “Can you hear yourself, Bobby?”

#

“Yeah,” the hunter murmured now, as he walked along the road. “I think I’m crazy too.” He looked up at the sound of feet, meeting the eyes of a couple of his elderly neighbours as they headed past. Bobby distinctly heard one of them murmur, “He’s right about that,” to the other one.

He picked up the pace a bit. It wouldn’t do to get soft.

When he got back, the lesson appeared to have wound up for the time being. Kyra was nowhere in view and Bobby saw Crowley tidying up his books on the table. It was a rare opportunity to see him without Crowley being aware of his scrutiny. The demon seemed to be thinking hard about something, his handsome features set in a grim look. He was not wearing one of his suits – after much persuasion from Bobby and Kyra he’d agreed to dress down at least around the house – but his shirt and trousers were still black and well tailored. 

“Hey,” the hunter greeted him and Crowley looked over, amber eyes flecked with fire; ever present reminder of his identity. “Everything okay?”

“Oh yes, love. And out there?”

The hunter shrugged. “Plenty of rebuilding goin’ on, plenty of armed people walking the streets, looks nice and peaceful.”

“Something’s clearly wrong then,” Crowley drawled. He walked towards Bobby, stopping within arm’s reach, brows raised as though in question. 

Bobby knew he’d reacted, done a microsecond flinch out of nowhere, seeing the demon red flare in Crowley’s eyes. It just caught him by surprise sometimes, the reminders Crowley would give without meaning to, maybe, that he was not a mortal man, had not been one for hundreds of years, and that he did not, maybe could not, calculate the odds as a human did. It was like having his own domesticated – but never tame - wolf and never knowing when it was all right to pet him. It was the odd feeling he got when Crowley, on very rare occasions, talked about Hell and what was going on there, as though it was somewhere he went to work from nine to five, say, instead of another freaking dimension or whatever it really was. Even Crowley himself could not say.

At the time of his death, Crowley’s consciousness, spirit, whatever, had awoken in Hell. That was all he knew for certain. Much later, he told Bobby, he had learned more about the transition from life to death, though never the whole story. It was based on the belief one held as one’s awareness moved from one dimension to another. Crowley had _believed_ that he still had a body, that that body was being tortured on “the racks” and it had taken an unknowable amount of time for the being who had been Fergus McLeod to learn that said body was as insubstantial as mist, that the agonies he had experienced were of pure spirit. Or something. Crowley very rarely even tried to talk about those things and when he did, it was in fits and starts and bursts of frustration. Some of the concepts could not be held in a meat brain. It wasn’t that he did not want to tell Bobby, it was that he could not.

Now he wore a body that was not his mortal body and the raspy voice which purred in Bobby’s ear during sex didn’t truly belong to him either. And sometimes, this came home to the hunter like a painful shock, as though he was learning it for the first time. It wasn’t something a person was made to understand.

“Yeah – no, “ Bobby said now in answer, “I couldn’t find anythin’ wrong, I’m just itchy. And don’t say you can help me with that, it’s not that kinda itch. Where’s Kyra?”

“Grocery errand,” Crowley said. “She said we were out of something, something and something else, so I suggested she fix that, being the one who wanted to eat them tonight.” He smirked and suddenly the strangeness was gone and Bobby laughed.

“That almost made sense. Hope it means she’s gonna cook dinner – she’s getting pretty good at that, you know.” He quietly slid a hand around Crowley’s shoulder. “Don’t go soft on her now.”

“Never, darling. _I_ needed the break.”

“Yeah, well. I ran into one of the schoolteachers on my patrol and we got to chatting a bit. Made me wonder if we should rethink the homeschool thing a bit, even with this flu about. She needs to be with other kids. The teacher suggested Kyra maybe come in for part of the time; a lot of kids are doing that because their parents need ‘em to work. So the absences aren’t just to illness like I thought. That way the school can handle the basic stuff like maths…” He grinned at Crowley’s sour expression. “And that means you don’t have to deal with the complaints. Also even if you think American Literature is a waste of time, I’d kinda like her to be able to at least recognise the classics.”

“Then you can tell her, Robert.”

“Fine, fine, I will.” He rubbed Crowley’s shoulder thoughtfully. “I thought she was gonna ease off this project to find Rafael. Honestly, I can’t see how we’ll track the kid down.”

The demon nodded. Months earlier, with Lucifer in control on Earth and apocalypse in full thrash, it had seemed humanity was a goner. Dimensional portals had been popping up like lightning storms, catching the unfortunate in their net and sometimes dumping otherworldly creatures, montrous and not, upon their earth. One of the unfortunate had been Kyra’s fellow junior teen, child of one of the witches whom Lucifer had gathered together as power vessels for his demons.

Crowley, Bobby, the Winchesters and many others, had formed a chaotic alliance to prevent this and things had plateaued – not to normality, exactly – but everyone had been able to pause and get their breath. But Rafael Catalano, along with thousands of others, was still missing and Bobby was ready to count the loss as permanent. Kyra, his foster child and now hunter trainee, was not.

“Not even as if we’re limited to one world for him to get lost in,” the hunter summarised. “You’re not actually teaching her how to manage a dimensional portal, are you?”

“For that I’d need to fully understand how they work, Robert, which I don’t.” Crowley sounded annoyed at himself for that. “They aren’t a controlled thing, not properly. They can be managed, but their tendency to break away from the controller is, um, unpredictable. Even Rowena would have to acknowledge that.”

“Not so sure she would,” Bobby murmured. Rowena McLeod hadn’t exactly greeted her son’s survival with unfettered delight. Once freed from Lucifer’s dominance, she’d announced that she had “important things to do,” and promptly gone off the radar. Bobby had tried asking Sam, who was the nearest of all of them to being a confidante of the witch, but the younger Winchester knew nothing about it. Or said he didn’t. Neither he nor Dean were quite as easy with Bobby as they had once been and he didn’t need to ask why. The reason was standing right before him.

He moved into the kitchen, began to put a sandwich together. He always thought better when he was doing something. Crowley leaned on a counter, arms folded, to watch him and he came to sit at the table while Bobby ate his lunch.

“You got a lot of free time lately,” the hunter murmured, half-teasing. “Things calming down below?”

“In Hell?” Crowley snorted. “I try not to be there, darling, so I don’t care, just so they stay out of my hair and keep the place running.”

Bobby got up when he was done to put his plate in the sink. “I’m headed back out,” he said. “Gathering of the local militia.” Crowley rolled his eyes expressively and Bobby gave him a look.

“This would be the militia run by the old age pensioner?”

“Hey. She’s not that much older than I am. Anyway, you need to get your student back to work. She should be home by now, shouldn’t she?”

“I’ll head down to the co-op and hurry her up.”

“Don’t scare the shit out of them if she isn’t there. Or if she is. I mean it. She’s a kid; kids skive off and do stuff.”

Crowley muttered something, waving his hand expressively. Bobby walked over to him. “What was that?”

“Nothing, darling.”

“Yeah, well.” He leaned down to kiss Crowley, who returned it with interest. “Call me when you track Kyra, will you, just so I know?”

“I will, love.”

But Crowley hardly crossed the threshold before Bobby heard his voice again and also Kyra’s, high and a bit indignant that someone had been coming out to search for her. _Honestly, teenagers. They really do think they’re immortal – and this one should know better!_

She came inside on Crowley’s heels, arms around a laden cloth bag, rather windblown and with dust over her clothes and her frizzy hair. “They had chickens,” she greeted Bobby and Crowley both. “How do you feel about an entire roasted chicken?”

“Like at least a third of it has my name on it, darlin’,” Bobby answered, feeling relief wash away any annoyance with her. Even knowing that she was manipulating him with uncanny skill, given her few years of practice. “Did you get potatoes?”

She nodded. “It’s going to take me awhile to prepare dinner. I’m done with lessons for today, aren’t I?” That to Crowley, who by his look was as aware as Bobby that he was being played.

“I’m on my way then,” Bobby said. “Militia meeting,” he added to Kyra. “You two sort things out.”

“Robert, you are running away,” Crowley called.

“Absolutely,” Bobby called back, chuckling, and for the moment all was well. He knew it wouldn’t last, not among hunters – and a demon - but that was what made this time precious.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s just a damn cold, Crowley. Leave me alone, let me get some sleep.”

Crowley ignored Bobby’s complaint, concentrating as he rested his hand against the hunter’s bare chest, leaning his head close. Kyra watched from the end of Bobby’s bed, tensed as though ready to leap into whatever action was required. 

“You’ve got a considerable mess in your lungs for “just a damn cold,”” Crowley said at last, straightening up again to study Bobby’s face. “Also fever. Kyra, go find Jody, tell her Bobby has that flu and find out where we can take him.”

“Come on, how do you know that? You’re not a freaking doctor…” Bobby ran out of breath before he got to the end and husked the last couple of words, then began to cough. Crowley supported him, far stronger than he looked, the hunter knew, and he cursed himself for weakness as he coughed, lying back on the pillows, as out of breath as though he’d climbed a mountain. 

“I’ve seen the symptoms once or twice, darling,” the demon said calmly, not reacting or snarking about Bobby’s display of temper which brought home to Bobby the seriousness of his situation. He had begun to feel ill only the day before and the symptoms had come on with seeming rapidity. He looked for Kyra, but she’d gone without a word and that was even scarier. “If you can sit up for awhile, that’s to the good.” He settled more pillows behind Bobby.

Voices made Crowley look up and meet the eyes of the woman who had come into the room behind Kyra. “I met Alice just outside,” the teenager blurted, as though expecting trouble for bringing the wrong person. He wasn’t _that_ unreasonable, the demon thought to himself. In fact, he was the very soul of reason! He stood back as the elderly woman entered. Alice Taylor, apocalypse or not, maintained certain standards in her presentation. She favoured flowing, colourful garments, as up to date as she could manage and had told them she made all her clothes herself. Her upswept hairstyle was impeccable. She gave Crowley a nod, one professional to another. While no one had _said_ anything to her about his supernatural capabilities, Bobby had been sure she knew something of the hunters’ world and she’d had a few conversations with Crowley on the subject of herbal remedies and such. 

Alice Taylor was the sort of woman whom no one asked about her age, even a demon. Bobby had been partway through his sixties at his first death and Alice was at least ten years his senior. Yet she moved to the hunter’s bedside with alacrity, studying him as though neither Crowley nor Kyra was there. She put her hand on him the way Crowley had, murmuring a perfunctory request for permission that Bobby clearly didn’t have the nerve to refuse. “Cough,” she said and even Bobby winced as he heard the wet sound from his own lungs. She asked him a few blunt questions.

“You’ve got it, man,” she concluded and glanced at Crowley, hearing his quietly satisfied grunt. “You look like you’ve been running yourself down for weeks. What have you been doing to yourself?”

“Nothing,” Bobby muttered.

Alice shrugged. “You need a hospital and some good drugs. I don’t have that stuff. Do you?” She threw that at Crowley who shook his head, reluctantly. He knew he could chase down antivirals, but he did not know the niceties of dosage and any treatments he knew were, should he say, a few years out of date. “No hospital I know around the neighbourhood, but the central ones in the city might be open. Phones are still unreliable so you probably can't get through to 'em, which is a bind. If you can get gas for a vehicle, probably better to just head in.”

“Thanks,” Bobby muttered. “Uh, you were comin’ to see me before my kid grabbed you?”

“I was going to ask you to join patrol tonight, a couple of the regulars are down sick. Obviously that’s out.” Alice shrugged. She looked inquiringly at Crowley, who controlled his expression, or most of it. 

“I’ll get him there, kicking and screaming,” he assured her.

“Try to keep that to a minimum,” Alice said to Bobby, who rolled his eyes, despite his throbbing head and general aching body. To Kyra she said, “How old are you now, girl?”

“Fourteen,” Kyra said warily.

“You could probably start doing some patrol duties, if these two permit. I know you do self defence and you might enjoy a bit of activity around town. Anyway, we can talk when you get back. Bobby will be fine so long as he gets treatment soon.”

Once she was gone, Crowley said, “Just a minute,” and vanished. Bobby coughed again and Kyra went to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.

“He’s gone to check whether any of the hospitals in Sioux Falls are open,” she said, half a question and Bobby nodded.

“We’re a good twenty miles out from city centre,” he reflected, taking the water, but drinking only made him cough again. “So I guess it’s teleport. You better move the truck to the next street in case Alice checks. It’s got enough gas for that.”

“You’re not leaving me here.”

“Kyra, I’m only goin’ to the hospital for whatever drugs they give you for this, then comin’ back. And I need you to shift the truck. Better a fourteen-year-old driver than a demon who still thinks of them as horseless carriages!” Her look said she wasn’t mollified by that. Probably doesn’t even think of it as anythin’ special, the hunter thought. Kyra’s life so far hadn’t exactly been normal and now she was being trained as a hunter, which included driving practice. Alice’s comment about her self defence training was like the tip of the iceberg; the only part which was okay to tell outsiders.

Like Crowley having been “in sales.”

He tried to settle and get some sleep. Sleep right now was the only escape from feeling like total crap, even if he did have to prop himself up on cushions else he couldn’t breathe properly. 

He woke up, feeling his eyes gummed shut, but didn’t immediately move to fix that. Crowley and Kyra were talking nearby. “……other centres as well,” the demon was saying, his tone caustic. “The situation is almost total chaos. I should send some of my demons along for training on what not to do. We will just have to take care of Bobby ourselves.”

“We can’t!” Kyra cried. “That’s why you went looking in the first place. Come on. You _have_ to talk to your mother.”

“I believe you’ve spent time with Rowena yourself, so I think you know that “nurturing” isn’t in the same book, let alone the same page as her name,” Crowley snapped back. “Probably not in the same _library…._ ”

“But she can heal people. I saw her do it.”

“For her own purposes!”

“Who cares why she did it? Just she can. Look, if you won’t or you can’t, I’ll talk to Sam and maybe he can find her….”

“Oh no,” Crowley’s raspy voice got deeper, warning. “If anyone contacts her, it needs to be me, because I’m the only one who can. There’s spells only usable by one of her bloodline…..” He stopped talking and for a moment there was silence. Bobby could almost feel the demon’s regard on him and reminded himself to keep breathing shallowly, though he was pretty sure Crowley could tell whether he was asleep or not. Then an itchy feeling welled up in his throat and he exploded fully awake in a swampy burst of coughing which had Crowley next to him in a moment, arm firmly around his shoulders to steady him. Bobby held on to Crowley, unable to see through the gunk on his eyes until he was again calm enough to spare a hand to rub them.

“Crap,” he muttered miserably and leaned his head back against Crowley’s shoulder. “What’d you find?”

“Crowded and undersupplied facilities,” Crowley said. “And a lot of coughing, sneezing humans. I’d recommend Kyra stay away from you but it’s a bit late to enforce that. The city’s hospitals were barely back to functioning after Lucifer and Co were kicked back downstairs and now, well, I don’t think I’d even leave Sam or Dean in one of them for treatment.”

Bobby laughed, then quickly stopped before he began coughing again. “Well, I guess I stay here then.”

“I’m going to consult Rowena,” Crowley said, in the tone of one about to ride into the Valley of Death. “ _Don’t_ say anything. I need to set up the spell, so you look after him, Kyra. Do that back patting thing I showed you. Hard, mind, it doesn’t work if you just tap.”

#

Rowena McLeod regarded them with obvious amusement, if they had been watching her, which they weren’t. The mortal; the ageing hunter, Robert Singer, who’d been the scourge of her kind as well as of the demons her son ruled. Now he was in actual cahoots with one of them, proving her long-held belief that men were extremely simple beings only after one thing. 

And then there was her son. Her smirk widened as she studied the “meatsuit” which was nothing like the skinny, red-haired mortal she’d borne. Of course, she hadn’t seen him after he was eight years old but even so, she couldn’t get her head around the idea that Fergus would have grown into this middle-aged drama queen who now insisted on the pretentious name of _Crowley._ Well. Perhaps it wasn’t so incredible. He’d always been so needy. Look at him now, resettling pillows behind Bobby’s back and examining him carefully. Still, she’d witnessed a bit of their activity and had to admit that when well, Bobby certainly still had plenty of, ah, energy, which kept Fergus happy and not inclined to bother her.

“You’re going to have to let go and stand back,” she announced. She nodded to Kyra and indicated that the girl should move in and persuade Fergus away. “That’s it. Remember not to interrupt or do anything once I begin.”

“I’ve done the odd spell myself in my time, Mother,” Crowley growled at her.

“I _know_ you have, darling.” Then she left off the entertainment of inserting barbs in him to get on with the serious business of spellcasting. Oh, but these two were going to owe her some useful favours.

She’d arrived in the morning. Now, as night settled, Rowena regarded the exhausted man asleep in the bed. Bobby Singer looked as though he’d just fought an entire nest of vamps and been drained thoroughly in the process. But he was clear of the influenza. She wasn’t _certain_ where that bug had ended up, but thought there were probably a good hundred or so sneezing mice under the floor, not having a great evening. Fergus sat next to the bed, holding Bobby’s hand and regarding her with less than filial enthusiasm.

“Well, that’s it, Fergus,” she trilled. “He’s probably going to sleep the night and tomorrow away, so you might as well do something else for awhile. Such as make a cup of tea for your dear mother!”

“Ask Kyra. She’s better at it.”

“And gratitude is so short lived.”

“I said thank you. Now I’m waiting to hear what you want for it.”

“What makes you think I want anything, dear son? I’m overjoyed that you sought me out to help…” He merely looked at her and Rowena mused that whatever _issues_ plagued Fergus, it wouldn’t do to forget that he was another power. That the unknowable dimension called Hell answered to him and supplied him with mage strength. It was more than the borrowed body that made him so different from the son she had borne. That person had been transmuted by Hell itself to make the demon Crowley. She wondered whether Bobby knew quite what he was bedding, despite his store of knowledge.

“A blank check,” she said. “I have certain projects in mind that may require another magician’s aid. When I call you and crook my finger, I want you to come running.”

“Fill in some of those blanks. I’m the salesman, not the mark.”

“You abandoned that role when you called me to save your lover.”

“Save him?”

“Indeed.” She left off the smirk to look at her erstwhile ‘patient.’ “He’s not a young man and his lungs were rubbish. You could have sailed a boat in there, in a manner of speaking. His fever wasn’t life threatening yet but it was not decreasing and your failure to find an operating facility means he wasn’t going to improve.”

Fear and anger warred in Fergus as he watched her. “I would have kept looking.”

“Certainly but I don’t even know if there are any public facilities still working and supplied with drugs. You would have had to break into somewhere private, such as wherever this country’s President is treated and others of the rich and infamous. Do you think Robert would have allowed you to spill as much blood as you would have needed to?”

“I don’t…”

“Care? Of course not, but he would and he would learn the truth eventually. Then what would happen between you and the only person – male _or_ female – who has ever loved _and_ wanted you?” Her voice flicked at him like an acid-drenched whip. “That’s what I did for you, Fergus, that’s what I saved. So when I call you, you _will_ come.”

Still he looked at her but his eyes held defeat now. Rowena smiled, returning his gaze for long enough to let him see that she knew it.

“So. How about that cup of tea?”

#

Rowena strolled slowly into the kitchen where Kyra was doggedly washing up. Kyra was determined not to let the witch see a thing wrong with how housekeeping – or anything else – was done in her household. Rowena propped a hip against the counter and beamed at her.

“Well, all done. Lovely tea. You’ve been a very apt pupil.”

“I taught myself how,” Kyra said.

“Very apt,” the witch repeated. “So how’s life been treating you, sweetheart? Did your little boyfriend show up?”

“You know he didn’t,” Kyra said, meticulously rinsing a plate and setting it in the rack to dry. “Crowley is teaching me what I’ll need to find him.”

“You know that even if you learn faster than any witch ever burned, that’s a life’s work?” Rowena said. “I’ve been doing this for more than three hundred years and I don’t fully understand how the portals work. They’re something Chuck dreamed up while he was high.”

“And you shoved me through one just to help you find out. I remember.”

“He’ll have to be retrieved some time, you know. He’s somewhere he doesn’t belong, like a thorn stuck in your foot and making it fester. Eventually that dimension is going to vomit him out.”

“You mean a portal will open?” Kyra forgot the dishes as she grabbed on to this idea, facing Rowena with dangerous hope. 

Rowena shrugged. “When Lucifer and a legion of demons were roaming around up here, that caused an incredible amount of disruption and possibly led to the formation of the rogue portals. That messing around between here and the “apocalypse world” made them form like boils and burst open….well, like boils. It’s likely something like that will happen but it will be uncontrolled, meaning there’s no telling where the boy will be tossed. It could well be somewhere inimical to human life, meaning he won’t survive.”

“He could be somewhere like that now,” Kyra said grimly, facing it.

“But he will still get evicted, sweetheart, because he’s matter that doesn’t belong there.”

“That’s gross.”

“Mmm. What I _can_ perhaps do is narrow down the focus, using what I’ve managed to learn about the conditions conducive to portal formation. An educated guess, you could say. Then you and Fergus could search for Rafael in those guesswork regions. It’s a much smaller area than infinity.”

“He won’t want to do that,” Kyra said reluctantly, though she couldn’t give up the spark of hope. “He thinks Rafael is already lost and I should just admit it.”

Rowena smiled entrancingly. “But my dear boy would do anything for me. All I have to do is ask.”

“And we would be your guinea pigs to working out precisely how the portals work so you could use them for whatever you wanted, go wherever you like?”

“You’re a very intelligent young woman,” Rowena cooed. “You’ll make a wonderful witch.”

“I’m not going to be a witch.”

“Now, now, don’t narrow your options too soon. We have to wait until Robert is quite well; I know Fergus won’t want to leave him before then and neither will you, I’m sure. At that point, I’ll be in touch and we can get things moving.”

#

Bobby woke, wondering what was different and then he felt it. He was breathing mostly clearly. Somebody had propped a heap of pillows behind him in the bed and there was a dark shape in the chair next to him, leaning over against the mattress, arms under his head. “Crowley?” he asked, not prepared for his voice to come out all croaky.

The dark figure sat up abruptly, his hands clutching at Bobby. A sphere of hell-light floated up, showing him the demon’s face, hair unkempt and eyes weary. “Hey, hey, come here,” Bobby murmured and Crowley did, stretching himself out on the bed beside Bobby, no thought to any dignity, patting the hunter all over, so concerned with it that Bobby didn’t even tell him off.

“You’re all right. She really did heal you.”

“Who’d you get in? Not…?”

“I’m afraid so,” Crowley murmured, too happy at his recovery to spare any vitriol for Rowena. “You’ve been fixed up by an evil bitch, ah, witch. Desperate times, darling.”

Bobby leaned down to him, which made him cough and Crowley awkwardly slither further up the bed, telling him to stay where he was. He picked up the glass of water on the bedside table and handed it carefully to the hunter. “Sip, don’t gulp,” he ordered. This done, he settled himself back, still studying Bobby intensely. The hunter put an arm around him, hugging hard. “What time is it?” he asked.

“I don’t have a timepiece with me, but somewhere after midnight and before dawn.”

“Kyra okay?”

“I had to leave her with Rowena for awhile but she’s taken it well. Nobody’s dead.”

“Where’s Rowena now?” Bobby asked in sudden alarm.

“Oh, she wouldn’t lower herself by staying here, love. She promised to be in touch. Kyra said she was talking to her about training to be a witch.”

“What did Kyra think of that?”

Crowley coughed quietly, somehow eloquently and Bobby chuckled. “Kill or cure, huh?” he said. “What did Rowena want for this?”

“Blank check. She’ll click her fingers and I’ll come running.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Not your decision, darling. A little painful humiliation’s not much more than stubbed toe standard in Hell.” His hand tightened over Bobby’s hard and the hunter heard what Crowley was not saying. While he hoped said humiliation was all Rowena had in mind, he knew better than to believe it. “Robert, she said you must be very careful or the sickness would _remember_ you – that’s the word she used – and come back. You have to let us nurse you….and for your safety, we have to move you somewhere.”

“Oh no. Not the bunker.”

“I already talked to Sam on the phone. I’m to bring you by demon taxi – such a charming turn of phrase that boy has – and I’ve already been showered with threats on what’ll happen to me if you’re not all right. Not sure why it’s _my_ fault, except that they’re them and I’m me.”

“Well, yeah,” Bobby agreed.

“In the morning, it’s to be. Or they’ll come looking and again, salt in the shotgun, bubbling demon, guts in pieces, blah blah.”

Bobby grinned at the drama. When had that started to become endearing, he wondered. He wished he felt better right now, damn it. He _wanted_ , damn it. “Oh?” Crowley said, drawing the word out with his customary drawl as he accurately read Bobby’ Bobby shook his head.

“Wish I could but I can’t,” he said with an attempt at sternness. Already he felt like going back to sleep, and again, damn it. He sighed, thinking of what it would be like in the bunker. Why were Sam and Dean still so anti about him and Crowley? They were okay about the gay thing when it was other people, but somehow he knew it wasn’t all because of who and what Crowley was. It was because it was _him_.

Usually it was Crowley making moves on him, but Bobby knew he was bad at asking. It didn’t matter, because Crowley always sensed when the hunter wanted him. His body accepted Crowley now and wanted to keep getting what it was being given. _He’s my fix_ , Bobby realised, looking back at those knowing golden eyes.

“Jeez, I wish we could get it on right now, but I'm weak as a damn kitten.”

“Always the romantic, darling.” Crowley leered, but then the expression faded, leaving a sort of weary sadness that scared Bobby, because he almost never saw Crowley look like that. _Yeah, well, if I went for stuff like “I love you,” you’d be more scared of that than an angel blade._

“When I feel better, yeah,” he agreed. “Look, Crowley, in the bunker…”

“I know, darling. Behave in front of the Winchesters. Look but don’t touch, blah, blah.”

“No,” Bobby said, steeling himself. “I’m not gonna do that. Sure, it’ll be like when Kyra’s around, keepin’ it at a PG rating, but I won’t be pretending we’re not together.” His face was flushed, he knew it, but he kept his gaze steady.

“Are you sure, Robert? They won’t make things comfortable for you.”

“Oh, so what’s new?” Bobby scoffed, patting him. “C’mon, get some of that gear off, will you, if you’re staying?”

“That’s more like it, lover.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've seen, I wasn't able to totally separate fiction from reality in that an influenza outbreak made its way into the story. It seemed logical given that this scenario is an AU where Chuck did not do an automatic "fixit" of everything and where the effects of Lucifer's rampage were much more widespread.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life is not so great right now, which is the case for, well, most everybody.  
> I write this to make me feel better.  
> Hopefully it'll help some other readers as well.

Crowley’s old frenemies watched as he steadied Bobby in the bunker’s War Room, Kyra hovering off to the side as Crowley had told her. The hunter could walk all right but his balance was still wobbly, thanks to the chaos the sickness had wreaked inside him. He leaned so heavily on Crowley that the demon himself wavered and then Dean, with a growled curse, came in to assist on the other side. “You better not give me your bug,” he warned as they hauled Bobby into the room and deposited him on the bed.

“If I do, you’re not gonna be able to kill me,” Bobby pointed out. “Kyra, where are you?”

“Over here. Didn’t want to get squashed.”

“Hey, some respect,” Bobby growled but he grinned. Kyra bounced on the side of the bed, looking a bit happier. Crowley sat down on the other side, ignoring Sam and Dean, who were watching a little cautiously.

“I’ll help you get changed later, darling, without the audience,” the demon said, giving the Winchesters a trenchant stare.

Kyra jumped up and ran back to the War Room, where Crowley had dropped Bobby’s bag. She hauled it back in. “I would have got that,” Sam said.

“It’s fine,” Kyra said. And indeed, Crowley noted, she hadn’t had any trouble moving the heavy duffel bag. All that fight training was having an effect. “Um, can we go back out so Crowley can help Bobby?”

Crowley managed somehow not to smirk as he watched her usher the Winchesters back out of the room, though Dean turned to give Bobby a WTF look before they went.

“I can actually put my own PJs on,” Bobby grumbled at him.

“You want them back here?”

“Well, no, actually, not right now.” The hunter coughed and then let out an explosive sneeze, wiping it on his sleeve and looking embarrassed. “I do feel pretty weak at the moment, got to admit. Feels a bit easier knowin’ we can relax a bit.”

Hearing that made Crowley sure they had done the right thing in coming, annoying as it was going to be for him. He got up to open the bag and locate Bobby’s pyjamas, which he held up with a triumphant air, then turned his back. “Tell me when you’re done,” he said in a sing-song accent.

“Like you haven’t seen it all before, idjit,” Bobby muttered, trying not to laugh. When Crowley turned, he had his shirt half off and had paused, head down for a moment. That made the demon move in and quickly help him off with it, his hands quick and gentle. He did it with efficient speed and a minimum of comment, until Bobby was back in the bed, PJs on, and Crowley had put his clothes on a chair. “Thought you said she fixed me,” the hunter said.

“She did, love.” At Bobby’s continued glare, Crowley’s voice took on some sharpness of his own. “You aren’t dead or dying. It’s got a sting in the tail, that’s all.”

“I know,” Bobby mumbled. “Sorry. C’mere.”

Crowley surrendered to the pull of his hands, sat on the bed by Bobby and felt the hunter’s whiskery kiss on his cheek. 

“Thank you,” Bobby said quietly. “For what you’ve done and what the boys haven’t thanked you for. Now, I got to rest but later tonight or tomorrow, all of us need to talk. I’m sorry to leave you to Sam and Dean, but Kyra’s gonna be a help. Don’t kill anyone but don’t take any crap from them either, okay?”

“Never, darling.”

#

He made his way carefully to the War Room table, having told Crowley and Kyra not to help him. They hovered at each side, so visibly not helping him that Sam and Dean were staring at all three of them. Bobby reached the chair, sat and sighed deeply without meaning to. He didn’t feel sick any more, but he did feel as though he’d just run a marathon, his limbs like lead and responding at about quarter speed. The clock told him it was just past 7pm in the evening but entombed as they were, who could tell?

“We got anything to drink?”

“You sure you should drink at the moment?” Sam was unwise enough to ask, which got him a glare from Bobby. 

“Can we stay on the freaking point?” Dean asked. “Like what Crowley said about Kyra’s boyfriend being a boil.”

“Why the fuck did you mention that?” Bobby groused in the demon’s direction. “I thought I was here to recuperate, not for a damn war council. And yeah, we’re going to get to work on finding the kid, don’t worry.” That to Kyra. 

“Rowena,” Crowley said precisely, “actually gave us some useful information.” He smiled, no warmth at all, towards Sam and Dean. “At least, it cost enough so it had better be useful. Here’s what she had to say about the random portals.” He stopped then and gestured graciously towards Kyra, much to the Winchesters’ surprise.

“Rowena told me while Crowley was looking after Bobby,” Kyra said. She fished a phone out of her pocket and tapped some keys before placing it on the centre of the table. “I wrote down what she said as well as I could remember.”

Sam glanced at her, got a nod and pulled the phone over to read the screen. “WB. said that Lucifer and all the demons being up here made the portals form. That they’re like boils that come up and burst whenever. And that R. doesn’t belong where he is, like something in the boil so he’s going to be tossed out. Also that B. can narrow down where to look.” He gave her a quizzical smile. “I guess R. here is Rafael. So why do you put WB for…”

“Witch Bitch,” said Kyra at the same time as Dean, who grinned widely.

“High five!”

“My arrangement with Rowena is that I help her with some unspecified task in return for her healing Bobby,” Crowley put in sharply. “She wants to know about the portals, more particularly how to control them. So she is apparently more than happy to, ah, experiment with anyone but herself in their use. I’m sure that’s what she wants to include me in.”

“Not sure I want Rowena or anyone to have that kind of power,” Sam said, sharing an uneasy look with his brother.

“It’s not your….” Kyra started but Bobby made a warning noise and she stopped.

“Be polite,” he said. To the Winchesters he said, “We need her help. We need Rafael back where he belongs and if we wait for him to get spat out, there’s no guarantee where he’ll end up and then he’ll just keep on goin’ until he ends up somewhere he can’t survive. As long as that goes on, the portals are unstable and we’re still in danger.”

“She also said Chuck made up the portals while he was high,” Kyra said, suddenly. “I just remembered.”

“That explains a whole lot,” Dean groaned. “But if we let Rowena toss us through portals, even if she’s narrowed the field, what guarantee we don’t end up like an episode of _Sliders_ , you know, _none_ of us getting back? It’s not like she can attach a bungee cord to us or something.” Everyone looked at him and he returned an indignant look around the table. “What? You never heard of the classics?”

*

Bobby was more relieved than he cared to admit when he could settle back into bed and enjoy the view as Crowley undressed prior to joining him. There was certainly a lot to enjoy at his present eye level. “You’re bein’ slow on purpose,” he accused, grinning as Crowley turned to give him a full frontal show after he’d hung his suit up in the closet. 

“You objecting, darling?”

“No,” Bobby admitted.

“You worried Sam or Dean will look in and find me….exposed?” Crowley raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Kyra would knock first so that’s fine, she’s been properly trained.”

“So did Sam and Dean get trained. Ain’t my fault they didn’t listen,” Bobby growled. “And get in this bed. I’d like to get my hands on what I’m lookin’ at.”

“Feeling better, are you, Robert?”

“Still weak as a freaking kitten but I’d just like to remind myself,” Bobby said as Crowley lifted the covers so that he could get in. He was surprised when the hunter pushed himself close and wrapped both arms around him, hugging probably as hard as he could. Not with his usual strength, Crowley thought. 

“What did I do to deserve that?”

“Nothin’ yet,” Bobby said. He sighed. “And not much for awhile, sorry. Didn’t mean to lead yer on. I just wanted to, you know, remind myself. Tell you I’m sorry for dropping you in this, I know it’s damn uncomfortable for you, being here, but they aren’t gonna do a thing against you, I promise.” He eased his grip, keeping his arms around Crowley, who cuddled contentedly against him. “Soon as I’m able, we’re gone.”

“We do need to give that library a look through,” Crowley reminded him. “That’s something you can do fine from a chair.”

“What are the Men of Letters gonna have on portals to other realities,” Bobby muttered. “They weren’t a thing before Lucifer broke that first one open. At least, they can’t have been a thing during any time the MOLs were active.”

“We need to be sure of that.”

“I guess. Hopefully we can take some books with us, do the rest of the work in our own place.”

“Interspersed with sexual interludes, darling.” The King of Hell moved, rubbing himself lightly against Bobby, who murmured indistinctly, but with definite apprecation. “Call this an IOU of my future, most explicit intent,” the demon murmured. “Feel free to take advantage the moment you feel recovered.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” Bobby licked his lips, aware of their dryness and his own empty feeling weakness, longing to start what he _knew_ he couldn’t finish, not right now. “You’ll be yellin’ for mercy.” 

“I keep telling you, Robert, it’s not mercy I’m after,” Crowley breathed, despite himself rather enjoying the verbal by-play, since he couldn’t have the physical. “I want you to…”

There was a knock on the door. Bobby cursed softly. Had Crowley been talking loud enough for whoever was there to hear what he was saying? Had Bobby? Surely Kyra couldn’t have any emergency this quick and she wasn’t a little kid any more.

“Bobby, it’s Dean.”

“What?” Bobby growled, keeping his arm over Crowley when the other would have moved.

There was a brief silence as Dean judged the tone to mean his visit was less than welcome. Then, being a Winchester, he kept going. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“I’m in _bed_ , Dean.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to get up, I’ll just….” Dean opened the door, and as he did so, evidently remembered that Bobby had not gone alone to his rest, as it were. Crowley shifted leisurely from under Bobby’s arm, rolling on to his back while keeping the covers over what they had to cover and bestowing a smirk on Dean.

“Sorry, we’re not accepting applications.”

“Fuck you,” Dean growled. “I mean, I don’t – hell – I ….” Crowley’s smirk grew into a full grin. He passed a hand over his chest, still staring at Dean.

“Of course you do, Squirrel, I remember quite well. What’s the matter? Brain cell get lost in the empty void?”

Dean retreated, whatever he’d wanted to say either lost or consigned to tomorrow, Bobby thought. Whichever it was, the door shut and he sighed deeply. “What the hell was that? What were you talking about? Dean’s never been that great about the gay thing, not when it’s me at any rate.”

“Let’s just say things appear different from a demonic perspective,” Crowley said.

“Be clear,” Bobby pleaded. “You mean Dean went with guys when he was a demon, or with you in particular or were you just being a dick?”

Crowley shrugged. “Nothing in particular, love. That’s the point. The Mark created all manner of hungers and demons don’t deny themselves; that’s hardly the point. When he was a demon, Dean didn’t leave anything out, any more than I do – did.” He noted Bobby’s expression and cursed his slip silently. “But yes, mostly Dean had his usual effect on me.”

Bobby’s sigh then was resigned. “Look, Crowley,” he said, “I’m not an idiot and I face what there is to face. I’m a hunter, I’m an old, beaten up hunter and I’m gonna die, maybe soon, maybe not so soon, and who knows what happens then? The rules have been torn up, haven’t they, and even you might not hold Hell down for ever. You’ve been around for centuries and you could have more centuries, and all that time in Hell, because of how slow the time runs there. I’ve never thought I’m all there is for you and I don’t expect it. Your idea that you comin’ back the way you did means we’re linked somehow, you don’t actually know, do you?”

“No, love.”

“So don’t correct what you say to me because you think it’ll hurt me.” He leaned close to Crowley’s face, the demon for once surprised into silence, and after a moment kissed him gently.

“I want to be with you. Thought you’d be sure of that by now. But you need to be honest with me, as much as you can. All right?”

Crowley stayed quiet for a moment, his breathing a little harder. Finally he said, “I’ll do that, Robert.”

“Now I’ve gotta get some sleep,” Bobby told him. “Can you stay till I’m asleep?”

“Where else would I be?” Crowley asked lightly, but his expression sobered the moment Bobby closed his eyes.

 _Fuck, this hurts. What’s wrong with me, that it hurts? I feel as though I’m going to cry._ He even touched his eyes but they were dry. With a wave of his hand, the room’s lights went out and there was only the light of the passageway beyond. Crowley stayed where he was until he knew that Bobby was asleep, before getting quietly from the bed. 

Better make sure that Hell is behaving itself. His face was grim as he gestured and was clad in his trademark black suit, neatly knotted tie and shined Oxfords. No one awake now, no need to play the human. But his expression eased a little as he looked back at the sleeping man. What if he’d told Bobby, as he had suddenly longed to do, that he didn’t want to return to Hell, that he just wanted to get back in bed and have Bobby hold him? Would the hunter have believed him?

He winked out.

*

He was gone three days and nights.

Sam and Dean argued, discussed, kept fit (Sam) and drove out several times “to see how everything’s going”(mostly Dean). Sam looked through some more of the library he hadn’t yet surveyed for anything useful (nothing) and did his best to supervise Kyra and try to make sure she didn’t read the more lurid details of from the lore. 

Bobby exercised, read, got gradually better physically and grumpier mentally. If it wasn’t for the boys’ unwelcome attitude towards Crowley, he thought, he could almost stand the bunker, at least for the books. He might not be finding an answer to the problem of finding Rafael, but he was learning a whole lot of stuff. Mostly historical, to be true, but damn useful all the same. It filled in a lot of gaps the hunters had never been able to fill.

“If Crowley doesn’t come back,” Dean said to him, on the third evening, “have you and Kyra thought of staying here, Bobby? We could use both of you.”

“He’s comin’ back,” Bobby said, glaring at him. “I note you don’t say you could use our help if he’s here. What’s the matter with you boys? After he saved your lives and all.”

“Doesn’t wipe out all the crap he pulled.”

“How about all the crap you’ve pulled in your time, Dean?”

“That’s not fair!”

“Oh, now we’re worried about fair? Dean, despite bein’ a demon, he still managed to help you two, which you know _doesn’t_ come naturally or easily to his kind. How did you go when you were a demon for a few weeks, huh? Full of restraint and manners, were you?”

“You’re only defending him because you want to….” Dean couldn’t finish his sentence and was annoyed at himself for it.

“Screw him?” Bobby asked, unmoved. “Yeah. That’s one of the things I’ve got planned now I’m getting over that illness. But my point stands.”

“So glad to hear it, darling.”

The silky rasp of Crowley’s voice behind him made the hunter, seated at the big table in the War Room, nearly jump up, startled and embarrassed. Yet part of him noticed the fact that Sam and Dean were even more so, and annoyed at themselves for being scared. Slowly, Bobby stood and turned, trying not to laugh when he met Crowley’s eyes. _Bastard’s in a good mood. Hell must be under his thumb at the moment._

He wasn’t sure whether to just go to him and hug him as he wanted to do, but the lift of Crowley’s eyebrow made him wait and see what he had in mind, which was to stroll slowly over and turn, behaving as though he hadn’t even seen Sam and Dean at the table, extending a hand to him.

“So, Kyra’s gone to bed?” he asked Bobby.

“Yeah. It’s….nearly midnight.”

“Details, darling. So, shall we?”

Bobby grinned awkwardly at Sam and Dean as he got to his feet, accepting Crowley’s hand. It kinda spoiled Crowley’s “We’re all alone” act, but he didn’t want their invitation revoked at this precise moment, not with Kyra already settled for the night. “See you in the morning, boys.” Sam sighed and shook his head, but Dean was still directing a “How _could_ you?” look of betrayal at Bobby.

He was chuckling as he led the King of Hell into their room and closed the door. “How long has it been in Hell?”

“Mmm, couple of weeks,” Crowley said, shrugging his overcoat off. He hung it in the closet, followed by the rest of his suit as Bobby stripped. “And I would dearly like to forget all of it, Robert, if you could oblige as suggested?”

Bobby moved over to him and wrapped his arms around the demon. Kissed him, first lightly and then a longer, deeper kiss. “Come to bed then,” he told Crowley, when the other shivered and pressed close against him. Bobby rubbed his back.

“Won’t tell on you if you just want to cuddle,” he said, his amused drawl right in Crowley’s ear. He knew, despite his light tone, that Crowley straight from Hell always needed unwinding time to move from his Hell-mindset to that of the being who was trying to be a man, and his lover. “Come on then.”

It was Bobby who led Crowley then, pushing back the covers and urging him to settle in the bed beside him. Crowley sighed, leaning his cheek against Bobby’s chest, feeling the hunter settle his burly arms around him. “I wanted to say yes, at the start, you know.”

“Yes to what, exactly?” Bobby closed his eyes, not to go to sleep right now, just to intensify his other senses, the warm, sensual touch of the body against his. He let his fingers trace along Crowley’s shoulder blade, grinning as he felt him shiver.

“When you asked me if I wanted a drink, the first time I came to you in my, ah, professional capacity.”

“I remember. You insulted my booze and took off,” Bobby grumbled. “Come to think of it, you’re still insulting my booze and now you’re gettin’ me to fuck you anyway.” But his tone was gentler than his words and he kept petting Crowley.

“You surprised me,” Crowley said. “I’m used to all sorts of reactions during a sale, but they rarely involve any offer to stick around. I’m a means to an end, you see, the path to riches and fame or whatever the deal is. They don’t often look me in the eye – they despise me as much as they do themselves – and they’re very eager to get me past them and out of mind. And you had no reason to trust me, in fact, being what you are, you had less. You had a level of awareness that’s very, very rare in dealings with Hell.”

“People have known what they were dealin’ with, a few times through history.” Bobby’s drawl was very soft.

“Oh yes. But none of them have made a selfless deal, as you did. And all I could think of at that point was that I needed to preserve the deal; I needed to leave and give you time to think your way through to the end I wanted.”

“Could we have done things differently?” Bobby asked him. “I mean; would you have just given my soul back to me as you’d originally promised?”

“If we’d sat together and shot the breeze?” Crowley was silent a long time. “I don’t think so, Robert.”

“Thanks for being honest,” Bobby said after a moment. His big hand stroked along Crowley’s bare back and the demon shivered pleasurably.

“Please keep that to yourself, darling.”

“You idjit,” Bobby growled in his ear and tightened his arms around Crowley. Getting or giving comfort; he wasn’t sure, only that he was deeply glad for Crowley’s company right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a crossover of Supernatural and the book Blood Trail by Tanya Huff] 
> 
> For people just wanting Supernatural fic, they can skip this chapter and read the notes at the end. I get back to Bobby and Crowley and Co in the next chapter.

The boy fell out of the sudden, turbulent whirlwind which had sprung up out of nowhere. For a moment he lay on the ground, registering that it was dusty and that the air was a lot warmer than where he’d just been. It wasn’t night, as it had been seconds ago for him; more like late afternoon. His next move after standing up cautiously was to take off his jacket. His next was to dodge sideways in abrupt panic as he heard and then saw the swift approach of a car. He hoped it would just keep going. Maybe soon he’d want help but right now he wanted time to sort his head out.

He didn’t get it. The car, he noted with a sigh, was a police car and it drew to a halt alongside him. The occupant, a young redheaded officer, wound down his window and studied him.

“I think you might be lost,” he said. “The only place nearby is my family’s farm and I don’t know you. Do you know them?”

“No,” the boy said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“You’re not – yet – but if you’re not going to the farm, you’ve a way to go to get anywhere else,” the cop explained. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

The boy stared at the side of the police car, seeing what he’d been too rattled to notice before, that it did not bear the familiar sigils of his home state of California. It wasn’t even American. The lettering announced that this car was part of the London Police and if he was in any doubt as to which London, there was a red maple leaf.

*

Constable Colin Heerkens was used to all manner of weird behaviour from citizens in the presence of the police. It was possibly even weirder than when they were in the presence of a werewolf, though admittedly the group who knew that was a lot smaller. But the way the boy stared at the car, as though he’d never seen one in his life, was up there with the best. He was maybe twelve or thirteen, Colin thought, dark haired and dark eyed, maybe Hispanic, but his accent was pure California. Well, judging by what he’d heard on television. There were a few packs over there but he’d never been.

So the kid was a tourist, he supposed, but how on earth he’d gotten out here was a mystery. No buses ran near the farm and it was signposted; if the kid could read, he’d know this road didn’t go anywhere else. Since old man Biehn’s exit, that place was unoccupied and Mr Kleinbein was in the opposite direction. Beyond him was town.

“I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Rafael Catalano.”

“And you’re staying in town? In London?”

A hesitant nod, but if that was the truth, it was a pretty damn shaky version of it. This kid was blind scared, not just of him or police in general, but where he had found himself. “Shit,” Colin muttered. He wished Stuart was here; his uncle and pack leader would know what to do. He always did. There was a thought. He reached for his phone, motioning to Rafael to stay put and called his most used number.

“Hello?” Aunt Nadine, predictably. This time of day, Stuart and Donald and everyone else would be working outside. 

“It’s me,” Colin said.

“Are you held up again? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“No – well, yes, kind of. I’ve run into a stray kid on our road. He’s a bit confused and upset, so is it okay if I bring him to the house and sort things out for him there?”

“I’ll let Stuart know,” Nadine said to the question Colin didn’t ask, not in front of this boy.

“Thanks, Aunt Nadine. See you in a few moments.” He put the phone away and reached to open the passenger side door. “Get in,” Colin said to Rafael, more firmly this time. “I promise you, whatever the cops in California are like, we in Canada do not eat people.” He wanted to grin, but the kid would be even more scared if he did. “I’m taking you up to the farm and we’ll sort things out there.”

“How do you know I’m from California?” Rafael asked as he belted in.

“Accent,” Colin said cheerfully. “I’m good at spotting them, comes with the job.”

Rafael did seem to relax a bit during the rest of the short drive, but nearly plastered himself against the side of the police car when he saw what was waiting outside the farm house. To wit, Cloud and Storm, chasing each other around and acting like fools. Stationed by Stuart, no doubt, to make sure Colin wasn’t under some sort of duress. “They’re friendly,” Colin assured the kid. “Are you scared of dogs?”

“Not usually, but they’re pretty big.”

Colin gave his younger brother and sister a warning look as they came gambolling up, reinforcing it with a seemingly stern, “Storm, Cloud, sit!” They did, the huge red wolf and the white one, side by side, tongues hanging out and making the boy laugh. “Rafael’s a friend, okay? You can pet them if you like,” he added and Rafael did, still cautious. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I bet you could use a cool drink, I know I could.”

He turned briefly back to the dogs, bent to pet them and speak quickly into Cloud’s ear, then led the boy into the house. Rafael had only vague impressions of wooden floors, old furniture and quite a bit of dust and dog hair around the place before he followed Colin into a large kitchen. 

He was instantly the focus of several sets of eyes belonging to a group of people seated around a long wooden table. A middle aged woman with a pointed face and black, shaggy hair was the nearest and he nervously returned her scrutiny as Colin introduced him to his aunt, Nadine. “Daniel’s gone to get Stuart,” she said. “This is Donald, Marie, Jennifer.”

“Heard you’ve got yourself a bit lost, “ the man called Donald greeted without getting up from his seat at the table. He seemed inwardly amused by the idea. Rafael looked curiously at the redheaded girls, seeing that they were identical twins, probably in their late teens. He wondered whether Donald was Nadine’s husband, but if so, who was Stuart? There was a sense of prickling tension under the greetings, a reserved watchfulness from everyone present that made him think of gatherings of witches, the way covens watched one another.

He also knew, as only a witchborn would, that he was the only human in this room.

“Uh,” Rafael began, desperately trying to think of _something_ normal he could say. He was saved, if that was the word, by the arrival of two more people entering the house behind him, giving him the excuse to shift sideways to let them into the kitchen/dining area. The first was a boy around his own age, the second a man, who both stared straight at Rafael. The boy seemed oddly familiar to him and for the moment Rafael was caught up in trying to decide if he could actually know him. Then he blinked and realised the man who had just come in was naked.

Naked people weren’t an alien concept to him; he was from a witch clan after all, but even witches didn’t casually wander around their homes naked, not when there were people present who weren’t part of their group. But the man was so casual about it that this had to be a normal thing. Also, Rafael’s brain insisted on informing him, the guy was tanned all over, no pale areas where somebody would wear, say, shorts.

“Shit,” Colin said distinctly, “look at him and Daniel, Uncle Stuart. They’re like twins!”

The boy, Daniel, advanced a couple of paces. Everyone else stayed still and Stuart, the broadly built man who’d followed him in, crossed his arms and raised his brows, but otherwise stayed still as well. It seemed like whatever was about to happen was purely a thing between Rafael and Daniel. Rafael swallowed hard and kept his attention on Daniel’s face. The way the guy was staring at him was starting to creep him out, it was so intense that Rafael could feel it as though he was standing in front of a fire. Abruptly, he looked aside, then back in time to see that Daniel had also looked away.

Everyone in the room relaxed.

“Stand over here,” Stuart said to Rafael, nodding to the spot right beside Daniel. Nervously, Rafael moved into position and stood there while Stuart looked at them both.

“Where’d you find him again, Colin?” he asked.

“On the lane, most of the way here,” Colin said readily. “Cloud and Storm went to check out the area so they should have a backtrail.”

“And you didn’t notice how much he looks like Daniel?”

“Well, no….”

Rafael could have answered that but had more sense than to try. If these people were what he thought they were, they relied far more on scent than on sight. Now, suspicions raised, they were concentrating all their senses….and Daniel was right here for an easy comparison.

“What are you doing here?” Stuart asked Rafael. “You get lost coming out from town?”

That intensity just racheted up a notch, Rafael thought. The pack leader was reading his confusion and upset. Being a kid wasn’t going to help him, but what could he say? He didn’t have enough info even to lie convincingly.

“I’m Rafael Catalano,” he began. “I’m from Charming, California.”

“And?”

“And if I told you how I got here, you’d think I was crazy.”

“Try me,” Stuart said, with a brief grin that didn’t look at all friendly.

Feet thundered in the hallway and two _more_ people dashed in. How many were in this family….or pack…anyway? These two were young, well, young adults, Rafael thought, early 20s or so, one redheaded and one, the young woman, a pale blond. Plenty old enough to be out doing their own thing but here they were with their family.

“There’s no trail,” the young man of the two said to Stuart. “We found the spot where he was standing when Colin picked him up but when we circled, there’s nothing. It’s like he dropped out of the sky.”

“Is that what you did?” Stuart asked Rafael. Command was shading into menace.

“I fell out of a portal between worlds,” Rafael said, bracing himself for attack. If this guy jumped him, he was a goner, that was it. “Our world is under siege by Lucifer and his demons and I - a portal opened where I….and a friend were and I fell into it. I don’t know what happened to her.” This got him precisely what he’d expected; a group of blank stares laced with mistrust.

“When’s your birthday?” Nadine demanded suddenly and Stuart gave her a perplexed look.

“Uh, May third,” Rafael stuttered and gave the year. Nadine gasped and Daniel muttered, “Holy shit.”

“Daniel!” Nadine clearly wasn’t that stunned as to forget proper lessons as to manners.

“You want me to call Henry?” the young woman who had come in with the man, clearly her twin, asked her pack leader. Stuart shook his head irritably.

“We don’t need to call Henry every damned time we have a problem, Rose.”

“That’s my birthday too,” Daniel told Rafael. “Mom, can he sit down? He’s about to fall over and he ought to eat something.”

“We don’t,” the young man volunteered. “The last time we called Henry was that time he brought Ms Nelson out, you remember, when crazy old man Biehn was shooting…”

“We remember, Peter. You don’t have to go over the whole thing.” Stuart rubbed his eyes for a moment and it was amazing to Rafael how relaxing it was not to have the alpha werewolf looking at him. Then Daniel touched his shoulder and indicated the table. Rafael hesitated and looked at Stuart. “Okay, kid, sit down,” Stuart said finally. “Find him some food, Daniel.”

Rafael’s knees felt wobbly enough to collapse, so he did sit. Everyone looked at him and Nadine murmured, “It’s uncanny. His hair’s different – shorter – but he looks just like Daniel.”

_That’d be why he looks familiar, like from a mirror._

Daniel went to the other side of the room to search in the tall refrigerator there and in the pantry next to it. He came back with a plate on which he’d dropped a piece of fruit pie and a hunk of chicken drumstick. He also brought a tall glass of iced water. Rafael murmured thanks, suddenly ravenously hungry and tucked in, never mind all the stares. He put the food down briefly to drink most of the glass of water, which tasted better than anything he had ever drunk.

“We could at least ask Henry if he’s heard about portals between worlds,” Peter said.

“I have,” Daniel volunteered.

“I mean, not from a comic, Dan.”

Now seated, his chair turned away from the table, Rafael felt miserably exposed. He didn’t know how he could get this pack of werewolves to believe him and wasn’t sure what they’d do if he let out that he knew what they were. If this Henry was some sort of sorcerer who’d confirm portals, he might well be able to tell a fellow witch. If they called him. They were still arguing about it, though nobody really faced off with Stuart. Family packs like this weren’t all that common in the lore. All too often packs were formed from one werewolf biting someone, or several, in order to get pack members he or she could control and you didn’t often get more than two or three together, because then they were noticeable. Hunters counted werewolves as just one of the monsters who needed to be periodically put down. You didn’t get _nine_ of them, all clearly related, bickering in their home about whether or not it was a good idea to consult somebody not in the pack.

“I’m going to go clean up,” Colin said. He glanced at Stuart, who nodded and waved permission. “Don’t eat him till I get back.”

“Colin!” Nadine chided. She looked at Rafael, who had frozen. “He was joking, young man. Did you really think he meant that?”

“He’s freaking out,” Daniel stated. He went to stand in front of Rafael. “You can come along with me to my room. They’re gonna argue but you don’t need to be here for it, right?” Despite his apparent defiance, he aimed the question towards Stuart.

“Go on,” Stuart growled. 

Rafael wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t scared of Daniel as he was of the others. Maybe it was because Daniel was his own age – _exactly_ his age, which was so weird – but it was just….he trusted him. He wanted to do what Daniel said, like he was another werewolf and Daniel was his dominant, the way Stuart was for the rest of the pack. So he followed, up a flight of stairs to the top of the house where, Daniel said, he had the attic bedroom that was the coolest room in the house.

Daniel had a set of bunk beds, with the lower one covered with junk; clothes and books and electronic stuff. He started to turf the stuff off and Rafael hastened to help. “Where do you want this?”

“Just shove it underneath,” Daniel said. “You can sleep there.”

“They might kick me out. They think I’m crazy.”

“They’re gonna call Henry and ask him.”

“Henry knows about weird stuff like what’s happened to me?”

“Henry _is_ weird stuff,” Daniel said. He seemed about to say something more, then didn’t. Rafael let it go. He was too tired and spaced out to care, he decided, and besides, what could be weirder than what he had experienced? He made enough of a space on the lower bunk to lie down, took his shoes off and let them drop to the floor. He’d meant just to rest a bit, then he wanted to talk some more to Daniel but the next time he blinked, he realised that he had been asleep. Now he had no idea when it might be. Dusk had been approaching when he had found himself in the laneway and now he glimpsed dark between the curtains. He could hear Daniel rustling a bit in the upper bunk but he seemed to be asleep.

“Rafael?”

The voice came from the doorway, the open doorway, Rafael now realised, startling him badly. He almost screamed but managed to stop it. The man’s voice was English with an overlay of Canadian accent and only the fact that he spoke quietly enough not to wake Daniel and didn’t come any closer was any reassurance. 

“Who are you?” Rafael asked shakily.

“I’m Henry Fitzroy. Get dressed and come out here, we need to have a talk.”

Rafael sensed more people awake around him as he joined Henry Fitzroy in the hallway. “Downstairs,” the man said and led the way. In the kitchen, seemingly the house’s centre, Stuart Heerkens sat at the large kitchen table, a mug of something in front of him. Nadine was over by the stove. “You want some hot chocolate?” she asked Rafael and he shook his head, wondering why she made no offer to Henry. And then, why it had taken him so long to note that both she and her husband were naked.

He’d thought Henry sounded older, maybe Bobby Singer’s kind of age, but to Rafael’s surprise he looked to be only in his twenties. Short, not much taller than Rafael, with dark red hair and greenish-hazel eyes. He wore black, a long-sleeved shirt and trousers.

“I need to take a look at you,” Henry said simply and approached, circling Rafael slowly as he examined him. The boy had a distinct sense that Henry was using more than simply his sense of sight to do so. He was concentrating so hard that Rafael’s skin prickled with discomfort. “Well, he’s human,” Henry said at last, to Stuart, who grunted something indistinct. “Not possessed or under any other kind of duress, demonic or otherwise.”

“I could have told you that,” Rafael complained.

“I don’t want to disturb Daniel to prove it, but this boy is his twin in looks,” Nadine told Henry.

“I remember what Daniel looks like well enough,” Henry said, good humouredly. “And I’d have to agree with that. Nadine, when you were pregnant with Daniel, was there a time when you were going to have twins and something happened?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “We don’t use hospitals and no one called the doctor until we needed him for the birth certificate. But since our people often do have twins, I suppose it’s possible.”

“So in an alternate reality, maybe you did have twins. Rafael, do you have a twin brother?”

“No. And my mom never said anything about there being twins at the start.”

“Let him sit down,” Nadine said to Stuart and then a glance at Henry. “If you’re not saying he’s some evil creature from beyond, then you can stop treating him like a villain.” She put down the mug of hot chocolate Rafael had not asked for and he picked it up, the delicious scent drawing him in spite of himself. Something made him look at Stuart, who nodded and Rafael sat down. The alpha werewolf seemed pleased and nodded at the boy.

“Are you saying there _are_ alternate realities?” he said to Henry.

Henry nodded towards Rafael. “I don’t scent any lies on him,” he said.

“You’re not a werewolf,” Rafael blurted.

“Wer,” said Stuart. 

“You told him?” Henry asked, clearly surprised.

The noise Stuart made was definitely a growl, but Henry only waited. “Not unless Daniel did and I’ll skin him if…”

“He didn’t tell me,” Rafael said, trying to stop his voice rising with nerves. “I can – “ He stopped, not honestly able to say why he’d been so sure. He had been taught about the existence and traits of all kinds of creatures, including werewolves, but just why he’d been so sure, he couldn’t have said. He couldn’t identify what Henry was, except something more than human.

The impression of Henry being young, for an adult, was only that. The power that moved behind his eyes was _old_. Crowley kind of old. Rafael didn’t think this man was a demon, though to be fair, he wouldn’t have been sure about Crowley, despite his red eyes which showed when he was angry or upset, if Crowley hadn’t told him. That didn’t leave too much that was human-shaped and Rafael didn’t like any of the possibilities.

 _Not my world_ , he reminded himself. Look at how different these werewolves were from the creatures recorded in the lore at home.

“You can what?” Stuart growled.

“I can just tell. My family is part of a witch clan,” Rafael said. Getting the words out was incredibly hard. He didn’t _think_ his mother had ever cast a geas on him, but simple lifelong conditioning did pretty much the same job. “We mostly stick to ourselves, that’s me, my mom Maria and her sister Juanita. They left a bigger group before I was born. We, uh, try not to get involved in bad shit, but they do still have contacts and they have some of the old books.”

“But you yourself did get involved in some bad shit?”

“Yeah,” Rafael admitted. “It’ll sound crazy.”

“Try me,” Henry said.

So he did. Before he was done, he’d drunk another mug of hot chocolate and eaten a toasted cheese and ham sandwich Nadine put in front of him. Everybody threw questions at him and he answered, not trying to hide anything at all. That was way too much work. 

“You’ve got the actual Devil in your world?” Stuart asked, not for the first time. He seemed to be stuck on the idea of Lucifer.

“I haven’t met him but my friend Kyra has. He kidnapped her.”

“So you said,” Henry observed. “And she was rescued by this man Singer….”

“A hunter. Of, uh, supernatural creatures.”

“And his partner the King of Hell. Who isn’t Satan?”

“No. He’s a demon. He took over from someone else, while Lucifer was in the Cage,” Rafael said, dizzy with fatigue. 

“The King of Hell is gay?” Stuart asked.

“Give it a rest, Stuart,” Nadine complained. “The boy’s exhausted. He needs to go back to bed and get some sleep. You can talk to him tomorrow night, Henry, but he’s staying here for the time being. Daniel can use the company.”

“What about what I think?” Stuart bristled.

“He’s a child Daniel’s age,” Nadine said firmly. “So he’s my business. You two can keep talking at one another about devils and portals and supernatural business all you like but Rafael has been repeating things he’s already told you for some time, in case you didn’t notice. Rafael. Would you like to stay here until we can work out how to get you home? There are so many kids around here we honestly won’t notice the difference and we always need another pair of hands on a farm.”

“I would,” Rafael said, greatly relieved. “Thank you, Mrs Heerkens.”

“And he’s even polite,” Nadine told Stuart. “Go on, Rafael, go back to bed. They’re done.”

Rafael stood slowly and prompted by a powerful instinct, he looked at Stuart and waited. The alpha werewolf seemed slightly surprised, but he nodded. “Go on. I’ll want to talk to you later but that can wait. Tell Daniel I said he’s to look after you.”

“Yes, Mr Heerkens.”

Stuart nodded again, apparently satisfied. “Go on then.” 

Rafael fell into bed with relief, feeling totally drained. He closed his eyes with a sigh, but then heard Daniel’s voice from above. “Are you okay? What’d Henry say?”

“He and your uncle….”

“Stuart’s my dad.”

“Okay.” Rafael decided to leave figuring out how everyone was related for later. “They asked me a lot of questions and I told them everything I could, but I still don’t know if they believe me.”

“It’s pretty wild,” Daniel said.

“Yeah.”

Rafael fell asleep then, not hearing or remembering anything more. When he woke again, he saw the pearly grey of dawn through the window. He couldn’t have slept for that long, he thought, but he did feel better. He heard and felt a creak and thump and saw Daniel on his feet, pulling on some track pants. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“For a run outside.”

Exercise at dawn wasn’t, Rafael felt, what he really needed right that moment but he crawled reluctantly out and found his jeans where he’d thrown them on top of the covers. He followed Daniel downstairs, glad that no more of his numerous family were around for the moment, and outside, where the air was still night-cool, though their bare feet were soaked in the grass in moments. “Watch this,” Daniel said, grinning. To Rafael’s surprise and embarrassment, he stripped off the track pants, let them fall stretched…..and changed in a blur so swift Rafael’s eyes watered trying to track it. In Daniel’s place stood a young black wolf, still grinning, though now the pointed muzzle exposed a lot of very large sharp teeth.

The wolf danced backwards and turned smoothly, launching into a loping run. Rafael laughed; Daniel-as-wolf was so much like a dog wanting to play that he lost the remainder of his fear. He jogged forward after him, away from the house and the rest of the farm buildings and towards a track that ran alongside a fenced paddock with a lot of trees left standing within it. Rafael was in okay shape, he thought, but he wasn’t so good that he could keep up with a wolf. He was beginning to feel strange, like he had a sudden fever, though he knew he’d been fine when he woke up. He felt as though he _had_ to keep going after Daniel, had to catch him, couldn’t let Daniel think he was a weakling. So damn hot. He stopped, unfastened his jeans and let them fall. He could run in his shorts.

Maybe he was getting his second wind or whatever they called it? Rafael felt his vision blur and a burning ache pass through his body, vanishing in seconds. He felt his body stretch out and suddenly he was moving on hands and knees….no, he had four legs now and panic made him stumble and falter, but then the knowledge of how to move came to him and he began running after Daniel once more. He was a _wolf_! Panic and confusion gave way to sheer exhilaration.

Daniel hadn’t waited for him. Rafael fixed his eyes on the waving bushy tail of the young wer ahead of him. He was _going_ to catch up. The warmth was all over him as though he’d stepped into a fire that somehow didn’t hurt him and a rush of energy passed through him, making him jump forward….and suddenly he was running with an effortless ease, jogging up alongside Daniel, scenting the familiar presence of a pack-brother…..and the black wolf turned, giving a yip of surprise and then became a naked boy, sitting suddenly in the grass.

Rafael braked too, not knowing what to do, feeling that rush of energy once more pass through him and then leave him….and he found himself naked. His shorts were on the ground back along the trail and he and Daniel just stared at one another in total shock. 

“We have to tell Stuart,” Daniel said, scrambled up and ran without another word. Rafael followed him. At the porch, he finally found his voice again.

“How did I do that?”

“I don’t know. You have to be born wer. You can’t just….become one.”

“I thought you became a werewolf when you got bitten. That’s how it works where I’m from.”

“Not here,” Daniel said. He bolted into the house and up the stairs, right into a bedroom with its door ajar. Rafael braked at the entrance, watching Daniel thunder up to the bedside where Stuart and Nadine were lying. “Mom! Dad!”

“We’re awake,” Nadine muttered. “We were awake when you came back in. What is so urgent? Is Rafael okay?”

“Yeah, he’s here. Dad! He Changed!”

At that, Stuart’s eyes opened and he regarded both boys with the look of a hunter. “Rafael. Come here.”

Going there was the last thing Rafael felt like doing, but the pull of obedience towards Stuart was now as strong as a witch geas. He walked slowly towards the bed, stopping beside Daniel.

“Show us,” the alpha werewolf commanded.

“I don’t know what I did!”

“Follow me,” Daniel said and Changed in the next instant. Rafael fixed his eyes on the black wolfshape and on his wish to be with him, be the same. Again the fiery rush of energy, swift as thought, and he was standing on four legs. Looking down, he saw that his fur was black, the copy of Daniel’s.

“You weren’t wer last night. I would have scented it,” Stuart said, definitely. “And even Henry Fitzroy said you were human. Is this something that happens when you, uh, change worlds?”

Rafael thought hard, but he couldn’t remember any of Kyra’s family or friends saying anything about that. He shook his head.

“We’ll see if Henry’s heard of it when he gets up.” Stuart evidently spotted Rafael’s confusion because he added. “He’s a nightstalker. You didn’t work that out?” When Rafael began to stammer something, Nadine added.

“A vampire, Rafael. Henry’s a vampire. He’s the bastard son of Henry the Eighth.”

*

It was a strange day.

The Heerkens were stunned, but pleased by the news that the boy who had literally fallen on their doorstep was inexplicably wer. They spent the day filling Rafael in on how their kind lived in this world and insisted that he choose “a fur form name,” as they all did. “Easier than trying to explain how all the farm dogs have the same names as the family,” Daniel – aka Shadow – told him. 

His first choice – Storm – was vetoed because that was the name of Daniel’s cousin Peter when in fur form. So after some heated debate and suggestions – Rafael firmly refused “Lucifer,” – he settled on Nero.

In a flurry of fur and barking and excited pushing and licks, he was shown around the farm in the midst of the juvenile members of the wer pack. In the time they spent in human form, the group of young wer also explained the pack structure to him and how Stuart had taken over from Donald, when the latter adult wer had been in mourning after the death of his mate. “There wasn’t even a fight,” Peter said somberly as all of them sat beneath a large tree in one of the sheep fields. 

“And your dad’s okay with that?”

“Sure. He didn’t want to lead anyway after that but he still wanted to be part of the pack. So our cousins Jennifer and Marie were born after that, and then Daniel. My brother Colin joined the police force but he still lives here. It’s hard for us to live among humans and we don’t ever live on our own.” He shivered and the rest of the teens murmured agreement. “It was really bad a few years back when one of our neighbours found out what we were. He was a religious nut and he thought it was his duty to send us all back to Satan. So Henry got his friend Ms Nelson – she was a private detective – to come and find out who it was.”

“I guess she did. I mean, you’re all here.”

“She did in the end but it was bad. Old man Biehn and his crazy nephew nearly got her and Henry. That was my fault…”

“No, it wasn’t,” his twin Rose corrected sternly. “You couldn’t help it. It was my first heat and we didn’t know how close – the males have to go away when their twins mature if the twins are, you know, female.” 

“I went to stay with my uncle Robert in the Yukon. It was really cool.”

“I had to stay in my room,” Rose muttered.

“It’s not fair,” Jennifer said and Marie echoed her. Peter grinned at them. 

“You two had it easy.”

“We did not. We still had you howling outside….”

“Come on. Aunt Nadine was on the job and so was Rose.”

Rafael wondered where he should be looking. No one else seemed even slightly embarrassed and he wondered whether he should mention being thirteen. Usually he fought as hard as he could _not_ to be talked down to or treated as a kid, but right now, he almost wanted to be cut that kind of slack. He was nervous, too, about the “talks” both Stuart and Henry had said they wanted to have with him. What more could he even tell them? If he could get home, he would.

“Do you, um, work on the farm, like in the family business?”

“For now we do,” Rose said. “Stuart’s thinking about buying Mr Biehn’s place, and if that happens, Peter and I would run that. It would be great to have somewhere that was ours but we’d still have the rest of the pack nearby.”

“Stuart said he wanted to talk to me. Henry too. What do you think they’re going to say?” Rafael appealed. “I’m not one of your family, I don’t have any right to stay here….but now this has happened.” He waved vaguely at himself, alarmed to find he was near tears, like a little kid.

“Henry knows stuff, but he doesn’t have a say here,” Peter said definitely. “That’s Uncle Stuart. He’s fair, don’t worry.”

Rafael didn’t feel as reassured as they probably expected, but he nodded.

That evening, everyone assembled for dinner, minus Henry, who had “gone out for a bit,” Nadine said. Rafael found he was less overwhelmed by them all, but still uncertain, more because they were family than because they were werewolves. Everyone knew everyone else very well and half the talk contained in jokes that went over his head. He let them. He had expected Stuart to take him off somewhere to talk or to wait till the others dispersed after the meal, but that apparently wasn’t the wer way.

“Rafael,” he said as Nadine was dishing out icecream. “I’ve talked to the leaders of a few other packs and nobody knows of a line with your surname. They’re all mystified. Humans don’t just turn into our people. So they think somehow a mistake was made.” Stuart snorted to give his opinion of that. “They can think what they like, they’re not here. I’ve a few contacts in North America but I don’t think we’ll hear anything different. So.” He looked around at his listening family, who had all fallen silent. “I’ve talked to Nadine and she’s happy for you to stay until and if we work out how to get you home. Listen to Daniel, he’ll tell you how I like things to be. You do what I say and things will work out. Officially, you’ll be a cousin of his and of the others.” He nodded towards his daughters. “That’s what you’ll tell anyone else you meet, at school or wherever.”

“School?” Rafael tried not to squeak the word but the younger members of the family were all grinning.

“Yes, school,” Stuart retorted. “Or do they leave at your age where you’re from?”

“No, sir,” Rafael said faintly. He’d thought he had lucked out. Now he was no way so sure.

“It’s holiday time at the moment but when it’s time to send you again, we’ll work out your enrolment.”

“I can help there,” said another voice. Henry Fitzroy, of course. The vampire strolled in, nodding politely to Stuart. “He’ll need documents. I can speak to Vicki; she’s got contacts.”

Stuart shrugged. He didn’t thank Henry, but Henry didn’t seem to expect that. Rafael guessed the alpha wer wasn’t fond of having to accept help from anyone else. 

“I heard the end of that, Rafael,” Henry added to him. He hesitated. “Did I hear right? You….became wer?”

“I Changed,” Rafael said shakily. “When I was out running with Daniel this morning. It just happened, I didn’t try to do it or anything.”

“Yes. I can sense it now,” Henry said, meeting Rafael’s eyes so intensely that Rafael wanted to just dive under the table. “I’ve got no explanation, I never heard of such a thing. I only found out about wer when I met Stuart’s grandfather during World War II. ” He paused. “You know about that – your world had that?”

“Yeah,” Rafael said.

“If you had been born in this world, you would have been wer,” Henry said, thoughtful. “But you don’t have an analogue here. I’ll have to think about that some more. But for now, I need to take my leave and get back to Toronto. I’ll be in touch about fake documents.”

Rose and Peter went to farewell Henry at the door and the other young wer dispersed, leaving Rafael with Daniel and, he supposed, his new foster parents. “Right, you two, your turn for dishes,” Nadine said briskly. “Then you can head up to bed. Rafael looks exhausted, which I don’t blame him for at all.” 

“It was supposed to be Jennifer and Marie’s turn!”

“And now it’s yours, so move.”

Her orders sounded gentler than Stuart’s but they were absolute. Daniel complained as he went, but he did go and Rafael followed him into the kitchen. He was, he decided, no longer a visitor here. That felt oddly comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of this chapter is that Rafael finds a temporary home with the werewolf pack who appear in Tanya Huff's Blood Trail, several years after the events of the book. The wer "rules" are per that book rather than Supernatural's universe.


	5. Chapter 5

“What’s happened?”

Bobby Singer’s question was more resigned than anything else. He had come down the steps of the bunker’s door behind Sam and Dean, who’d stopped when they saw Kyra and Crowley at the table. Kyra had been crying, which was probably the second thing they noticed after Crowley standing next to her, dabbing tissues on her face. 

“You can stop, it’s not bleeding any more,” Kyra said indistinctly to the King of Hell.

“Why was it bleeding in the first place?” Bobby persisted, shooting a look at each Winchester brother to say _I’ve got this._ They hesitated, then kept on into the kitchen to let him wrangle whatever was going on with his foster child and Crowley. The demon seemed to have done a pretty good cleanup job; there was a bowl of water on the table and a bottle of soft soap and some cloths, plus the tissues. Bobby judged that Kyra had stopped someone’s fist with her cheekbone and that although it had been a hard blow, it hadn’t been delivered by someone very much stronger than Kyra. That meant…

“Your, uh, playdate didn’t go so well?” he said.

She shot him a glare worthy of Crowley himself at the word. “You think?”

“Hey,” Bobby said sternly. “Manners.”

She mumbled an indistinct apology and Crowley cleared his throat. Bobby sighed and looked to him. “Claire Novak and she went at it,” Crowley told him, with an eyeroll. “That’s all I’ve been able to discover.”

“Go and spend the day with Jody and the girls,” Kyra said morosely, trying to mimic Bobby’s pattern of speech. “There aren’t so many girls learnin’ to be hunters, you’ll have heaps in common. Alex and Claire are keen to meet you. It’ll be fun.” She sighed deeply. “He said.”

“It was true,” Bobby grumbled gently. “Jody asked me if you’d like to and _she_ said the bit about things in common. They’re older’n you but not so much that you couldn’t be friends.” He considered the damage. “Before today, I mean.”

Jody hadn’t liked it when Bobby pointed out to her that since Kyra and he were staying at the bunker in Lebanon with the boys during his convalescence from recent illness, the only way she’d get to Sioux Falls for the day was if Crowley took her. The demon had agreed to bring Kyra to within a few minutes walk and stay until she reported she was at Jody’s house. It was, Bobby thought, something like a handover of a child between estranged parents. If he hadn’t thought it so important that Kyra met Jody’s adopted daughters, trainee hunters like herself now, he wouldn’t have bothered negotiating the whole morass.

So, several hours ago, Crowley had done the drop off, after which Bobby had gone out with the boys on a supply run and to reacquaint himself with the general layout of the little town of Lebanon, Kansas. Crowley had stayed at the bunker to do some reading, he said, until Kyra called him for pickup. He’d been oddly pleased, Bobby thought, and for him the ordinary task - if you skipped the part involving demon taxi - must have seemed unusual indeed.

Sam and Dean had both been incredulous about leaving Crowley to do this on his own and Bobby had been fending off the remarks all afternoon. He sat down on Kyra’s other side to more closely examine her face. “She got you good,” he remarked. “You repay the favour?”

Kyra nodded. “But then Alex and Jody pulled me away,” she said. “It’s not fair. I didn’t get a proper chance.”

“When did it happen?”

“About two hours after I got there.”

“Who started it?”

“She said stuff,” Kyra muttered.

“So you did?” That got a stony silence. “Any of them see you?” Bobby asked Crowley, resigned to pulling this out of them piece by piece.

“No, love,” the King of Hell said in what Bobby thought was meant to be a soothing tone. “Drop her off, wait till she calls, you said and that’s what I did. That’s what happened, I promise. Then after the couple of hours mentioned, Kyra called and sounded all rattly, but told me Jody promised I’m an ex-demon if I approach the house. That woman can hold a grudge like a demon! It’s as though we were _married._ ” Bobby fought back a grin as Crowley echoed his own thoughts. “So I waited for Kyra at the crossroads of the streets where we came in and she arrived all over blood. I was ready to eviscerate whoever needed it but Kyra just said can we go home. So we came home. Well. Here. End of story.”

“What did Claire say?”

“She was cool at first, they both were,” Kyra muttered. “We did some working out and fighting practice. Claire knows a lot. Alex wouldn’t fight but she watched. She’s training to be a nurse; she says their household needs somebody who can put the rest of them back together. We talked about stuff we’d been through. Me with….him. The Shining Man. I didn’t talk about having been his vessel. I know you said not to. But I said about how he kidnapped me to get at you and Crowley.” Bobby nodded at her awkward reference to Lucifer. No way was he going to push that. “Alex was with vampires before she came to live with Jody and Claire, you know she was the daughter of Castiel’s vessel. So yeah, that part was okay, but then they asked about now. About Crowley and you. Claire likes girls, so she doesn’t care about the gay part…”

“So glad to hear it,” Bobby said drily. “I imagine she cares about the demon part of it.” 

“Yeah. She said Crowley was going to turn on you, on us eventually, that that was what demons did and he wouldn’t be able to help it. She said you’d have to deal with him before he did something to me or to someone else. That he was evil. Demons were twisted into evil when they went to Hell.”

“Not actually inaccurate,” Crowley mentioned. He was gathering his first aid supplies together as he spoke and Bobby shot him a look of resigned irritation.

“You’re not helping.”

“I told her about some of the stuff you’d done to help us,” Kyra said to Crowley, sounding tired and adult. He nodded graciously. “But she said that wouldn’t matter. I told her to stop talking about you. She said she and Alex had talked about me, that they were older and they knew stuff about evil that I didn’t. I said that was crap.”

Bobby suspected that was only the barest outline of what Kyra had said. “I was going to walk out to the rendezvous point and call Crowley….”

“Without telling Jody?”

“She was inside the house on a phone call herself. But Claire grabbed my arm and I yelled at her to let go. Things sort of went crazy and I, um….” Kyra demonstrated a clenched fist. “But she blocked me and then hit me back. I was trying to get her back when Jody came out. Alex had gone to get her. They made us stop and then I left.”

“Why the hell didn’t Jody call me?”

“She probably did, love, have you checked?”

Bobby took out his phone and looked, grimacing as he saw the page of texts. “Ah. Damn, I better call her back before she tries the boys and this escalates to World War Three.”

“Are you mad?” Kyra asked. She sounded unhappy about the possibility but also, Bobby thought, ready to launch into it again if she needed to. He looked at Crowley, catching the reassuring shake of his head as he looked at Kyra. 

“No. But we are gonna talk about hanging on to your temper, later on. You got to be able to do that, Kyra, specially if you’re around someone else who doesn’t. Or someone who’s a few years older’n you _and_ knows more about how to fight, like in this case.”

He headed out to deal with a discussion he’d never anticipated, along the lines of “Your kid clouted my kid and now what do we do about it?” Leaving – and this was the craziest thing about the whole episode – the King of Hell to manage the aftercare while Bobby did so.

Kyra drew in a shaky breath. “That was harder than the fight,” she said. “Do you think there’s some aspirin around? My cheek’s hurting worse now.”

Crowley considered. “Not sure where it might be, darling.”

“Can you do something?”

“Magic healing’s not my gig, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay. I’ll ask Sam.”

He reached out and patted her shoulder awkwardly, startled anew when Kyra got up and came to hug him. “Thanks for offering to pull their guts out.”

“I don’t think Bobby was so happy with that,” Crowley sighed, putting his arms around her and giving a quick squeeze in return. “He has this most unreasonable attachment to Jody and I suppose that means he’d mind if anything untoward were to happen to those girls. Although I could do it quietly.”

 _I think he’s serious._ Bobby had warned her about that in regards to the demon, that sanctity of life meant nothing to him. He would refrain from some actions _if_ he thought Bobby or Kyra might not like them, but that was all of it.

“It’s okay,” she said, stepping away. “It would cause a mess.”

“Please!”

Despite the throbbing pain in her face, Kyra had to grin at Crowley’s offended tone as she headed into the kitchen to ask for the aspirin and no doubt plenty of questions from Sam and Dean. They wouldn’t be mad that she’d got in a fight and they’d probably be willing to give her more self-defence lessons. But they probably wouldn’t offer to eviscerate anyone on her behalf.

*

Bobby came quietly into the bunker room he’d taken. He couldn’t see the rather institutional setup as “his” room yet. Bed, chair, cupboard, that was pretty much it and everything about as old as he was. He felt his spirits lift a little when he saw Crowley already in bed, reading from a Kindle, with half a dozen pillows behind him, no doubt stolen from other rooms. Did he have sufficient self preservation not to steal them from Sam and Dean? Maybe.

“I just said goodnight to Kyra. Did she tell you she’s ready to let Rowena teach her?”

“No,” Crowley said slowly. “We skipped that small detail.”

“Didn’t seem happy about it,” Bobby added, “but sure. I think she feels kinda on her own, maybe more now she’s had this fight with Claire. When I talked to Jody, she said Claire wouldn’t tell her anything beyond that they got mad at each other, which Jody says she’d sort of worked out for herself.”

“ _I’m_ teaching her,” Crowley said and when he raised his gaze to Bobby’s face, the hunter saw his eyes blaze unearthly red. “Rowena doesn’t know anything for certain about the portals and she’ll kill Kyra or anyone else in her experiments. It won’t give Kyra anything or anyone that she wants.”

Bobby sighed deeply. “ Yeah. I know.”

He stripped, dumping the clothes on the chair, thinking it’d have to be laundry day pretty soon, if some new apocalypse didn’t get in the way of it. Would have been good if something else could have been on the cards pretty soon, but Crowley didn’t seem to be much in the mood for that.

The hunter was surprised when Crowley set his reader down and turned towards him when he got into bed. “You want the light?”

“No.”

Bobby settled himself. He didn’t detect any vibes from Crowley, though it was a rare night that the demon wasn’t interested. But Crowley did slide down beside him and moved closer when Bobby put an arm over him.

*

Crowley woke, startled to find that he’d been asleep. It didn’t happen that often and wasn’t strictly required. But here he was, dozing, still wrapped in Bobby Singer’s arms. That unexpected, swift happiness bubbled up in him again, followed by unease that he’d dared to let that emotion loose. But he didn’t move to free himself. Bobby was regarding him sleepily, hand sliding over his bare shoulder in a caress, revealed only by the corner lights of the room whose appearance signified morning.

“Brace yourself,” he murmured. “We got a visitor you’re not gonna like. I heard Rowena out there talkin’ to Sam and Dean.”

Crowley knew Bobby could see his tension and he didn’t try to keep anger off his face. “I’ve got this, love,” he said.

“You want me to wait here till you’ve tossed her out?” Bobby waggled his eyebrows, tried to put on a “come hither” grin. “Like this?” He indicated his state of undress. Crowley managed a return smile.

“I don’t think that’s on the cards today, unfortunately, but yes, let me speak to her.”

When Crowley reached the War Room, Sam was there talking to Rowena. Nearby, not looking as though she wanted to be present, was Kyra. The two couldn’t have been more of a contrast. Rowena was elegantly displayed in one of her Evil Queen flowing gowns, as Crowley thought of them, a shimmering blend of black and purple silk set off by her startling red hair. Kyra, on the other hand, was in her rattiest jeans and a black T-shirt with some esoteric heavy metal band name displayed on the chest. That or they were demons, Crowley supposed. With her brown skin and curly black hair, she was all earth tones and night and adolescent fierceness. She stood with arms crossed, watching Rowena, but when he came in, Kyra’s expression quickly changed to relief.

“Dean not at home?” Crowley inquired lightly, looking around as though expecting to see the elder brother appear out of nowhere.

“Practising in the range,” Sam said shortly.

“I’ve come to speak to you about our arrangement, Fergus,” Rowena trilled, giving him a bright and false smile. “Samuel agreed to be here as the witness. Will Robert be joining us?”

“Not at the moment.” He hated to hear Bobby’s name on her lips, felt his teeth grit at the sounds.

“What a shame. Anyway, one witness is sufficient.”

“For what?”

“I want Kyra as my apprentice, to serve at my side for the customary year and a day. During that time we will work towards the safe return of her young man, Rafael Catalano, but also on all other tasks proper to a witch’s apprentice.”

“I’m not a witch,” Kyra said loudly. “I’m not of any witch bloodline, I don’t have the – the powers.”

“We’re not superheroines, sweetheart,” Rowena said fondly. “Certainly the witch families have an advantage, but it’s always been acceptable for outsiders with talent to come into the fold, as it were. And it’s not true that you have no talent. I’ve sensed your power wakening as Fergus has been teaching you. Only basic lessons, to be sure, since that’s all he knows, but enough for me to sense your potential.”

“I swore a favour from _me_ ,” Crowley grated. “Kyra is not bound by that agreement.”

Rowena turned towards Kyra then, ignoring him. “Is it not true that you expressed a wish to learn whatever you had to, in order to recover Rafael?” she asked. Kyra glared but she nodded. “And that last night you spoke to Robert and told him you’d be willing to learn from me if that was what it took?”

“I didn’t say I’d go away with you for a whole year!”

“I can hardly teach you in these conditions.” Rowena flicked a disdainful hand at the dusty War Room. “Not with Fergus and the others watching our every move. It would be worse than reality TV, Kyra.”

Kyra was torn; Crowley could see it and it didn’t take his expertise in reading human mood and expression. Rowena could be extremely convincing and she was, unfortunately, justified in her high opinion of her skills, though less so in her assessment of _his_. Despite their interactions since meeting again, he was sure she did not know his full capabilities. Even when he’d believed she was on his side, he had kept things back. It was what you did, as a demon.

“I want to talk to Crowley and Bobby,” she said.

Rowena had smiled and gestured permission just as though it was hers to give. Savagely, Crowley wished her to the furthest boiling mud pool of his domain, as he turned to go with Kyra. He knocked, a quick patter on the door, to warn Bobby it wasn’t only him coming in. The hunter had the covers pulled up around him. He looked worn and faded to Crowley. _Too much time in this damn burrow. Time I got him out of here._

“Let me,” he said to Kyra and gave Bobby a swift summary of Rowena’s demand.

“But she can’t make Kyra pay for you and that’s what it would be.”

“It’s a favour to her from you,” Kyra pointed out, while Crowley blinked in surprise to be contradicted from that quarter. “If you say yes, then she’ll work on me.” A long pause. “She’s already working on me. It’s like she won’t teach me what I need unless I go with her.”

“She can’t teach you that,” Crowley growled. “She doesn’t understand these damn portals.”

“No, but she’s a more effective witch than you, isn’t that right?” Bobby put the question reluctantly, knowing what he’d receive back.

“Whose side are _you_ on, Robert?”

“Well, isn’t that right? You’re a demon who knows some spells and hell knows you know more than most others, but she’s been running around aboveground for three centuries.”

“Bobby,” Crowley said, for once speaking before he had any of the words clearly planned in his mind. “Let’s just get out of here, back to the last house or to another one, I don’t care. We’ll be able to concentrate then. “

“She won’t leave you alone,” the hunter said very quietly. “Kyra, you want to learn magic, Rowena’s the best way to do it. It’s not forever. I know a year feels like forever to you but …..it ain’t, all right? Trust me on that. If you don’t want to go, then that’s it.”

“But it will take longer, if we even work out how to find Rafael at all.” 

It wasn’t a question but Bobby nodded. “I think so.” He looked in the direction of the War Room. “Damn it. I do not want to do this with the boys weighing in,” he muttered. 

“Not as much as I don’t,” Crowley muttered back at him. If things hadn’t been so desperate, Kyra would have laughed, but now. She looked at each of them and felt empty and lost. Part of her briefly considered just giving up on this. But she had lost too many people already in her short life. 

“Wait, please,” she said and left the room, ignoring Bobby’s call. Crowley blinked in next to her as she entered the War Room, but she didn’t look at him.

“If I go,” she said to Rowena, “then Crowley doesn’t owe you anything. You’re even.”

“We’re even,” the witch smiled.

“Okay, then I”ll do it.”

“Hold out your hand,” Rowena said and Kyra did, hearing Crowley’s low and unintelligible curse. She saw, clear as a streak of sunlight, the glowing coil of energy, like a rope wrapping itself around her wrist and Rowena’s, binding them one to the other. “For a year and a day bound,” the witch’s beautiful rolling accent echoed in her ears. “Seen and witnessed.”

“Seen and witnessed,” Sam said heavily.

Bobby arrived just in time to hear this. “Kyra!” the old hunter groaned. “You should have waited, we could have put in some conditions.”

“We need to see her,” Crowley said to Rowena, ignoring this. “Regularly. Every Sunday.”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “If it doesn’t interfere with her studies,” she retorted.

“No,” Crowley said. “It happens.” He stared at Rowena so hard that she actually looked aside for a moment and then shrugged, lifting her hands.

“Fine. Every Sunday.”

“I will collect her.”

Sam looked incredulously at Bobby, hearing this, but the older hunter just raised his eyebrows at Sam as though daring him to comment.

“You’ll be able to locate us, of course,” Rowena murmured.

“Of course.”

“Get your things together then, sweetheart,” the witch continued and Kyra, with a look at Bobby and Crowley, went past them to obey. She was soon back with a filled backpack, by which time Sam had gone to tell Dean what was going on and he was there to witness the farewells. Bobby gave Kyra a rib-cracking hug and then she went to Crowley.

He did not embrace her. Rather, he reached out his right hand and touched her face carefully. “Rowena will teach you more than I can,” he murmured, so quietly that no one else could hear. “But think for yourself and what she teaches can’t mark you. Understand me?”

“I think so.”

“I will be there every Sunday and bring you back to see Bobby.”

She nodded, desperately trying not to cry. Then she threw herself into his arms and hugged him. By this time even Rowena was staring. Kyra composed herself and moved out of Crowley’s awkward embrace with as much dignity as she could. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said.

Waiting outside for a cab rather than some magical and dramatic means like Crowley’s teleportation was definite anticlimax, Bobby thought, standing with his hand on Crowley’s shoulder at the door. Where Rowena was headed after they got to the bus station in Lebanon was unknown and for damn obvious reasons she hadn’t wanted to let Crowley ‘port them. She’d said she’d arrange for Kyra to meet him at a neutral point.

“Time for us to leave too,” he said to Crowley and got a nod and a fierce look.

“Soon as we grab our coats, love.”

*

The house on the edge of Sioux Falls was both stuffy and dusty, feeling as though they had been absent for much longer than a couple of weeks. Bobby started to ask Crowley how he meant to locate Rowena but got a terse shake of the demon’s head. He busied himself instead with checking out the state of the pantry. Supplies had been low at the time of his illness and nobody had bothered to restock, of course, before they went to the bunker. So their supplies were also less extensive than those of the bunker; mostly tinned stuff but that was okay, he wasn’t hungry anyway and for once there wasn’t a kid about who’d happily eat everything in sight. Damn. He had to make himself keep moving and not think about that. He _wasn’t_ thinking about that!

Crowley was moving around the house, going into every room but Bobby didn’t bother to ask him why. It was blindingly obvious that the demon was up to something – “hell, he’s breathin’, he’s up to something,” – so maybe he suspected Rowena was keeping tabs on them somehow. 

Bobby made coffee and called out to Crowley that he was planning on heading back to bed for a bit.

“Did you change the sheets before you left?”

“No. I was sick if you recall. Did _you_?”

That got no answer, pretty much what he’d expected. Sheets probably were a bit ripe, Bobby reflected and with mug in hand, he went to see to that task. He carried the clean sheets into the bedroom and set them down on the bed, where he sat to finish his coffee. Crowley came in, glanced about in apparent satisfaction and joined him, taking his silver flask from his coat.

“Warding?” Bobby asked.

“Yes, love, but I’m not 100 per cent certain so just….” He mimed locking his lips with a key and Bobby sighed and held out his mug to receive a donation from Crowley’s flask.

“Thanks.”

The silence began to get to him a bit and he suspected it did to Crowley as well. They drank. Bobby gave Crowley a gentle nudge in the ribs. “Move, I’m gonna change the sheets and then perhaps it’ll be to your likin’ to join me, yer Highness?”

Crowley closed the curtains. He could be oddly prudish, Bobby thought, smiling slightly as he watched the other undress. For instance, he let no one get close to him except Bobby. Even Kyra was something of a work in progress there; he would hug her and cared about her more than he’d let anyone know, but there was still that wariness there.

Crowley came to him then, sliding easily under the covers and under his arm, close against him, letting his breath out in a long sigh which Bobby felt against his bare chest. “She’ll try to hide,” the hunter murmured softly. “She’s not bound to anythin’ beyond the year and a day stuff and she’ll try to win our girl to her side by then.”

“I gave her a charm,” Crowley said back, just as quietly. “Unless my dear mother tries to strip search her – and we both know how that would be received – she won’t find it. Kyra knows how to hide it. It’ll bring me straight there if she calls me. If she _doesn’t_ call me, well, I show up next Sunday and let Rowena wonder why her efforts didn’t work.”

“How the fuck did you set all that up? You didn’t have a chance to talk properly with her before….”

“How can you have got this far with me and still not realised I plan for everything, darling?”

“I live in hope of a peaceful life,” Bobby answered, grinning as he heard Crowley’s snort of disbelief.

“That’s why the daytime nap?”

“I also figured you might be up for somethin’ else?”

“Now you’re talking.”


	6. Chapter 6

The first week went for forever. Then when Kyra arrived with Crowley on the Sunday, a huge sense of relief went through Bobby. His feeling was, as he had said to Crowley, that things could have gone so much worse. She wasn’t chatty about how things were going with Rowena, but she didn’t seem unhappy. Determined to stick it out was the sense he got from her and Crowley agreed.

Following that, things did, incredibly, seem to settle down over the next few months and the two of them experienced an almost normal summer and fall with Kyra continuing to spend Sundays with them.

The memory of Lucifer receded from the world. That was what Crowley said, in explaining how the mundane environment was healing itself. People were forgetting, not about chaotic weather and lawlessness, but that there had been anything beyond that. Those who had seen monsters or anything supernatural at all didn’t remember it or explained it away in their minds. It was one of the longest stretches of normality Bobby Singer could remember since becoming a hunter.

 _If you can call anything about us normal_ , Bobby thought, watching Crowley in the kitchen on a chilly Saturday night in October, marking six months since Kyra had made her deal. The demon was practising for the next night, attempting to create some exotic meal he’d seen done on You Tube somewhere, while substituting several ingredients because he hadn’t been able to find the originals, even after “checking France and Italy.” 

Crowley being domestic did things to him, the hunter had to admit. Even if he was domestic inbetween return trips to Hell and trips to collect and drop off Kyra. The demon always came home fairly shaking with fury and upset at some barb Rowena had sunk in him. He understood, and so Bobby did not remind him, that she had only the power he gave her to do such things. The hunter still didn’t get why she had to be the way she was with Crowley.

If she ever lost her grip on mortality and entered the demonic realm, well, he just hoped Crowley never felt the need to tell him Rowena’s fate. All he knew for now was that she _was_ teaching Kyra magic and doing it more effectively than Crowley. The demon had admitted as much to him after questioning Kyra, though Kyra still wasn’t saying a lot. She seemed careful not to compare Crowley’s training to Rowena’s and Bobby made sure never to do so either.

Bobby hadn’t done much in the way of hunting lately. He’d devoted himself to being part of Alice’s vigilante patrol – vigilante in the sense that they protected their neighbourhood, since law and order was still patchy in its effectiveness – and trying to look out for what friends he had left. He and the Winchesters stayed in irregular contact, but Bobby could hear the wariness and the gaps in what Sam and Dean said to him when they did talk. Not that they ever had been the best at staying in touch, unless they needed something, but still.

After the scene between Kyra and Claire, Jody was in touch even less frequently than the boys. Bobby couldn’t even remember speaking to her at all since he had called to tell her about Kyra’s deal with Rowena, in the interests of sharing what might become crucial information.

They had tonight to themselves and tomorrow night Kyra would be home for her halfway dinner, as she termed it. Crowley would be happy about that, in his own way, and then there would be the aftershocks. Bobby looked at his back and sighed.

“I can hear the gears turning from here, Robert,” Crowley said, setting out their plates. He was wearing a flowered apron over black shirt and pants. The bright purple, orange and yellow pattern had hurt the hunter’s eyes when he saw it and now it was definitely giving him ideas. He had a brief flashing image of Crowley wearing the apron. _Just_ the apron. He blinked and Crowley smirked at him. Seriously, Bobby wasn’t sure whether to believe the King of Hell when he assured him he wasn’t telepathic.

“I’m thinkin’ about tomorrow night,” Bobby said, truthfully enough. He watched the demon, feeling that by now familiar burst of affection mingled with desire. He leaned over from where he sat at the dinner table to snag Crowley’s hand and pull him closer, kissing his cheek. Crowley managed to set down the last plate and turn so that he slid on to Bobby’s lap.

“Wonderful sense of timing, as always,” he murmured.

“Thought you were always ready,” Bobby said with a grin. “That’s what you said when you ambushed me in the bathroom the other night.”

Crowley hmmmed, sliding an arm around Bobby’s neck to anchor himself. The hunter wrapped his own arms around him and urged him close, quite pleased for there to be a bit of a delay before dinner. Sex was a great way to improve Crowley’s mood and he had to admit his own as well. He brushed a hand over Crowley’s lap and smirked at what he found. “So, why don’t we…”

“Seriously, Robert? Fergus? You’re like a couple of teenagers!”

And that, right there, mood killer.

His head snapped around at the first syllable of that gorgeous Scottish voice speaking behind him, even while his hand rested against Crowley’s bulge. _Adolescent rebellion much, doing that with his cursed mother in the room._

“Didn’t think you knew that trick,” Crowley said tightly.

“Oh, I didn’t teleport, Fergus. One of you just didn’t lock the front door and as I see, you’re a little distracted. Shall I leave again for a few moments?”

“No,” Bobby said, trying not to snarl. “Where’s Kyra? She not with you?”

“She’s with the other members of my coven, Robert, I haven’t abandoned her in the street, don’t fret.”

Rowena McLeod strolled into the kitchen as though she owned it. She was dressed all in black, like Crowley, and Bobby wondered whether that was to give Crowley another dig or because she knew she totally owned black, with her magnificent fall of red hair and confident movements. Crowley’s meatsuit was also older than Rowena appeared to be, since the witch had of course used her powers to maintain the semblance of youth and the reality of beauty. That so messed with Bobby’s head.

“Kyra didn’t mention you had coveners,” Crowley said, his voice tense and deceptively pleasant. He stayed very still on Bobby’s lap, not moving to get up. “But the world is full of the weak-willed, isn’t it? Why don’t you get through why you’re here and then depart.” He turned towards Bobby, who gave him a weird look; he didn’t mind giving Rowena the information that they weren’t altering anything to suit her, but he wasn’t about to go full on make out session with her son in front of her.

“Oh yes. Very keen to start working with me, they are. We met during my time babysitting the Nephilim and I heard all about poor Maria’s missing child.”

“Rafael’s mother,” Bobby said flatly. “So she survived. I’m pleased to hear it. If you’ve got no other news, you can go out the door you came in by.”

“Unless you scuttled under it on six legs,” Crowley added.

A flicker passed through Rowena’s eyes and Bobby wondered whether they’d actually sunk a barb. It was almost impossible to tell and he thought he knew where Crowley had gotten that trait. “Kyra won’t be able to visit you tomorrow,” she said sharply. “We have plans – a long working in motion that can’t be interrupted.”

“I’ll believe that when I hear it from her,” Bobby growled. “She should have come with you to say that. Else Crowley can go and ask her to confirm it this moment.” At that Crowley did get up, using his powers to blink out and in again on his feet, confronting the witch with a cold, growing fury on his face.

“Very well,” Rowena said with a negligent shrug of her shoulders. She delved into her gown and came up with a sparkly purple cell phone which she handed to Crowley. “Line’s open,” she said sweetly. He gave her a glare which would have made Bobby shiver, but Rowena only smiled back as Crowley held the phone to his ear. He activated the loudspeaker.

“You there, sweetheart?”

“Hi, Crowley,” Kyra said. She sounded as tense as he felt, steeling herself for trouble. “Is Rowena there?”

“She certainly is, darling, with some upsetting news.” He maintained his light tone. “Anything you want to tell me?”

He didn’t have to look at Bobby to know he’d be wearing his “what the Hell now?” expression and he flat out didn’t want to look at Rowena. 

“I hate you,” Kyra said. 

There was a slight shake in her voice. It could be an actual response, Bobby thought. Teenager and she’d been put on the spot. Crowley couldn’t have actually set up a code for this, could he?

“I’m sure you do,” Crowley said, tone silky and assured. “But you’re upsetting Bobby with this sudden cancellation. Why can’t this working wait one more night?”

“It can’t, that’s all.” By Kyra’s voice, Bobby knew she was on the verge of tears but refusing to let them master her. “Please don’t come here. Something’s – we’re so close to finding where he is and we have to keep going. So Rowena and the others, that’s Rafael’s mother Maria and her twin Juanita, they’ve set up barriers against anyone but the four of us. I know you and Bobby would try to stop me but you mustn’t, not this time.”

“I can break any barrier a trio of witches and their apprentice put up,” Crowley told her. “Or if I can’t, a legion from the Crossroads certainly can.” At this he did turn to look at Rowena and saw the knowledge in her eyes that his threat was no empty one.

“Please, Crowley….”

“Give me the phone,” Bobby pleaded, hearing the taut fury in the demon’s voice.

He wasn’t sure, right then, whether Crowley would have done it or simply lunged at Rowena, but the air flickered in front of his eyes and the witch disappeared. Both Crowley and Bobby froze in confusion, but then they heard the front door open and knew. “She’s still here, it’s invisibility,” Crowley snarled and he translocated, but blinked back a moment later. “There’s a Helldamned devil’s trap around the house!”

“Shit.” Bobby got hurriedly up and went to the door, scuffling through the hastily-drawn lines of the trap to let Crowley out, but he knew the brief delay had let Rowena get away. Still wearing the invisibility spell, she had simply walked off. Down the road, he could see several cars being driven towards the town. One of them no doubt held the witch, suitably spelled so that Crowley couldn’t do something like materialise inside the vehicle and try to strangle Rowena. She thought of things like that.

“I’ll wait for her at the other end,” Crowley cried out.

“No. She’ll have something waiting for you.”

“You think she’s a match for _me_?”

“No. But I think she’ll hurt you. And didn’t Kyra ask you not to?”

The conflict was clear in Crowley’s face. He wanted to say things but was afraid that Rowena would still hear them.

“Or do you think Rowena has spelled her against us?”

That got a quick shake of the demon’s head.

“I can’t stop you if you go after her, King of Hell, but I’m askin’ you not to do it.” 

Crowley stared at him. He had heard that address many, many times since he’d taken that title for himself, and he’d thought it impossible that _King of Hell_ could sound _fond_ , but Bobby managed it. No more than a mortal man, he stood arm’s reach from him, a powerful demon who could reduce him to ashes that screamed. And Crowley stood down. He could feel himself easing from that point at which he would have destroyed something. Anything. Rowena, from preference, but anything else within reach.

Bobby Singer moved a pace closer, carefully reached hands to Crowley’s shoulders and when that was permitted, stepped closer and enveloped him in his embrace. “Think it through. What happens, if by some means you dodge Rowena’s traps and barriers and are able to snag Kyra and get her back here? What do we do then, put her under house arrest? She’s under geas as well; chances are the geas would help her escape and that’s what it would be, escape, if we’re keepin’ her here against her will.”

Bobby let Crowley hear his own frustrated misery at the situation, not trying to hide it in the least as he held the demon. Crowley’s body pressed against his, which usually had immediate effect but Bobby was completely distracted from that now. “I’ll call Sam and Dean. All right? Sam can maybe talk to Rowena, he’s the only one ever could, by all accounts. She’s gonna get a coven of witches, we’ll have hunters. And you. Is that all right?” He spoke gently now and Crowley nodded his head against Bobby’s chest.

“I’m going to kill her,” he said softly and Bobby knew he meant Rowena. He said something in Enochian – maybe – a short string of syllables that somehow changed the air around them for a moment into something heavier, antithetical to life and very cold. A promise or a curse or both at once.

“Wait,” Bobby said softly. “You know how to do that. It’ll be worse for her in the end.”

He took Crowley back inside, sat him at the table, though neither of them felt like eating the fancy dinner Crowley had prepared. Then he made the phone call, getting Sam, who sounded a bit wary, but put the call on speaker and listened while Bobby did his best to explain what had gone down. Then Sam briefly conferred with Dean and then returned. “We’ll get to you as soon as we can,” he said.

“I can fetch you,” Crowley said.

“We want the car – okay, _Dean_ wants the car and we’ve got all our stuff packed in it. Won’t take more than a day to reach you. If you get the feeling it needs to be quicker, you can let us know and I’ll let you teleport me, leave Dean to get Baby here. It’s okay, Crowley. You hang in there. Bobby too.”

*

Bobby ate some dinner. Crowley drank Scotch. Both remained silent until Bobby finished washing up and quietly told Crowley he was on his way to bed. He wondered whether the demon would simply ‘port over to where Rowena was and try to kill her, then and there. He certainly was capable of long range plans; they had seen that in the past, but he wasn’t used to caring about anyone else, the hunter had to admit. When he got angry – and Crowley could get dangerously angry – he was liable to lash out like the most impulsive of humans.

But Bobby was not long in bed, feeling fatigue begin to take him despite what had gone down, when he heard Crowley come into the room and presently say, “Move over, darling.” Bobby did and turned to face him in the quiet dark when Crowley, stripped, had lain down and they had resettled themselves. “I don’t think anyone ever tried to talk me down before,” Crowley murmured. “Feels quite strange.”

“What, somebody carin’ about you?” Bobby reached a hand over, rubbed his shoulder and traced down his arm. “C’mon. We’ve been together long enough now, right? Even Sam and Dean care, in their muddled idjit way. We’ll sort it, don’t worry.”

“You’ll come to Hell with me, after?” Crowley murmured and it took Bobby a few moments to realise, in his sleepy state, what Crowley meant. After he died. Again. “I’ll be there with you. It’ll be a fast track to Crossroads, I swear. You won’t need to do any deals, it’s just so you’ll be able to travel.” Bobby’s head felt dizzy, trying to think about such things. Knowing that he was probably headed back to Hell – _knowing_ Hell - after death, well, that wasn’t something a living mind was designed to handle, but he thought he could nail Crowley’s meaning down to something very simple.

_You won’t leave me?_

That was what Crowley was asking.

“You got it,” Bobby murmured. He moved closer, wrapped his arms around Crowley and hugged fiercely, wishing he could muster just the right words to reassure the demon. Crowley felt so solid and warm in his arms, pressing his cheek against Bobby’s, his breath catching a little. “Love you. You know I love you, idjit.”

Crowley pressed even closer at this, as though they could become one being. As though nothing else above the ground mattered, for this moment. Bobby held him in a silent promise of safety, which he would make true for as long as he could. Crowley did not answer him but Bobby didn’t say anything about that to him. He had long suspected and tried to research, that the demon could not say those words. If he got a chance, he meant to ask Castiel. An angel might know that. He knew, words or no words, that Crowley loved him. He was waking up a bit, he realised, in both senses of the word.

“Well?” Crowley murmured against him, his voice low and raspy and enticing. His hand brushed lower against Bobby. “Come on, darling. Last evening before we have company.”

“Like that has _ever_ stopped you.”

“Like you ever refused.”

“I have. When I’m too damn tired, like now.”

Crowley knew he didn’t mean it, though, judging by his smirk. He manoeuvred himself down the bed, kissing lightly downwards along Bobby’s broad chest and stomach. “Mmmm,” he interrupted himself to say, “I don’t think you need too much, um, encouragement.”

“Wasn’t in the mood for that interruption,” Bobby panted, spreading his legs to receive Crowley’s attention. He lay back, shivering a little at the delicious sensations. This was insane, he thought. Given all that was going on and that they were going through, to be doing this. He, a hunter, on his back in bed with the king of the demons crouched with his head between Bobby’s legs, bringing heaven to him. But Crowley was right. He wouldn’t be giving this up when the boys were in the house.

*

Kyra stood waiting while Rowena swanned into the house. The witch seemed in a good mood, so things had gone as she wanted. Kyra had seen no option but to do as she’d been told, though she was still shivering inside when she remembered how Crowley had sounded. That note in his voice which felt like skin being shredded. She had given him the code to let him know she wasn’t under duress. But in a way this whole six months had been duress. 

She glanced to either side quickly as she heard faint sounds of movement, but it was more instinct which told her she wasn’t alone. She still jumped a little when she saw the same unsmiling face to left and right; Maria and Juanita Catalano. The twin witches had been just as quiet when they arrived at Rowena’s house only weeks before and were welcomed by her as though it had been long arranged. Which maybe it had. 

Maria was on her left, she thought. Rafael’s mother was distinguishable from her sister only by her dark hair being a shade darker than Juanita’s and a tiny scar on the back of her left hand. Not something you could check for without being really obvious. They’d been polite to her, even smiling at her now and then but Kyra was sure, with a cold certainty, that they blamed her for what had happened to their son and nephew.

Having them stand there while she spoke to Crowley on the phone hadn’t been fun, but no threats had been made. Rowena had just told her, “We need you to focus. No more weekly interruptions,” and then specified what she was to say. And she’d agreed to say it.

“ _Are_ we doing a working?” Kyra had asked her.

“In a way.” That was it but now Rowena smiled gloriously as she saw the “welcoming committee” in the hallway.

“You were wonderful, sweetheart,” she told Kyra. “We should have a bit of time to get things done now.”

“So we _are_ doing a working,” Kyra said, echoing her earlier words.

“As I told you, in a way. My spellwork has gone as far as it can before we begin the field trips.” Kyra stared at her, not wanting to understand, if Rowena meant what she thought she did. “Are you ready to go hunting?”

“Now?” Kyra stared at her fiercely.

Rowena gave her tinkling laugh. “If you’re ready now. I put the finishing touches on my spell this morning. And your first trip will be mere moments in duration.”

Kyra glanced to left and right, finding Maria and Juanita close, like guards. _If I don’t say what they want, will they just force me? Much better if they believe it’s my idea._

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” she demanded, taking a step closer to Rowena McLeod. So she wouldn’t run.

“We need to prepare,” said Fergus McLeod’s mother. She looked to the other two witches who nodded. “Get some rest, Kyra. We’ll call you in about two hours.”

“Should I do anything to get ready?”

“How can you prepare for another world, darling?”

Kyra shrugged, thinking of her first experience. “I guess you can’t.”

It was close to midnight when Maria came to fetch her. She led Kyra into the temple – the spare room where Rowena did her workings and rituals – as though she had forgotten how to find it. Kyra was too nervous to be tired, though it was way past her usual bedtime. She had dressed in sturdy clothes, trying to anticipate what couldn’t _be_ anticipated. All three of the adult witches were wearing dark robes and the room was lit only by candles, creating spooky shadows around them. _Fine, I’m impressed already._

“Can you tell me anything about where I’ll be going?” Kyra asked.

“This isn’t the Stargate, sweetheart. You’ll see the portal and that’s what we’ll see. What have you got in that backpack?”

Kyra reluctantly took it off and opened it. She’d drawn on Bobby’s hunter training here and packed her knife, having no firearm, a lighter, a torch and a first aid kit. Rowena shrugged and waved permission. “Very prepared of you, darling. Now, there’ll be some effects as we start the spell. Don’t move. The portal will form around you – just take a step to your right – there. When you appear somewhere else, you can move but don’t go more than three steps away, understand? We’re still, um, _finessing_ this. Stand there and observe whatever there is. You will be there for only three minutes.”

“What if I _have_ to move?” Kyra could already think of a dozen reasons she might have to. Emerging in the middle of traffic as she’d already done came first to mind.

“Do what you have to. All right. You need to hold the memory of Rafael in your mind _as_ you pass through the portal. You’re our living link and we believe your wish to find him is what will reunite you. But just as you do magic and hold the intent in your mind, you must hold that thought. Thought will become deed.” As she spoke, Rowena’s voice took on the serious cadence of ritual. Kyra was now familiar with this and she nodded, listening intently to everything the senior witch said.

“Shall I grab something to bring back?”

“No. Just look. And now we’ll begin.” Rowena was silent for a moment and then began to speak in another language Kyra had only heard a small fraction of, in the message Maria Catalano had left for her son when Lucifer’s geas trapped her. She knew a bit more now; that it was a language of their particular witch clan, taught to Rowena via spell-learning by the sisters. Rowena believed using it would help lead them to the particular alternate where Rafael was trapped.

“Coming to find you, Rafael,” she thought. “Be there, please.”

She was suddenly colder despite the heavy jacket and pants, as wind abruptly arose, circling her and creating a gray fogginess blotting out the candles and the forms of the women. She started to speak to Rowena, to tell her nothing was happening and then the wind became sharper, blowing from much further away with gale force.

Light pierced the whirlwind, which vanished as Kyra’s eyes watered copiously. For a moment she couldn’t see anything and desperately wiped at her eyes. First she looked at her feet to make sure she was even on solid ground. She stood on rock, jagged and gray, and the smell of salt water struck at her senses with the fierce winds.

Looking up then, and out, she almost staggered. She was standing on a ledge barely worthy of the name, that was a mere indentation in a cliff that went up for ever. Before her was an ocean and a sky of dark blue, as though the sun had just set. If she took those three steps forward she’d be plummeting to the water below. She gazed frantically around, trying to identify everything around her. There were dark clouds in the sky above and they seemed to be moving closer, swooping lower. No, not clouds. She saw the form of outstretched wings and a long body flying in undulations towards her. The creature screamed, like a summons, opening long jaws showing the gleam of serrated teeth.

The whirlwind took her.

*

Kyra collapsed in the temple, not from weakness, just from a terrible relief and a feeling that she’d been holding her breath for all that time. The witches crowded around her. The electric light was now on and their faces didn’t show much of concern. More of ….hunger.

“Was Rafe there?” Maria demanded.

“Here be dragons,” Kyra said.

“Was Rafe there?”

“I saw,” Kyra said precisely, “a _dragon_.” And she told them as well as she could, how she had nearly ended up as a snack for a supernatural creature. She started to leave.

“Where are you going?” Maria said.

“To bed. I’m really tired. _If_ that’s all right?”

She’d thought Maria was just wound up, which Kyra didn’t think was exactly fair. She hadn’t been the person risking her life. But none of them got out of the way. Rowena said, “That was three minutes there, lass, and interestingly, ten minutes here. I have the spell on hold and it’s much less work to keep it in operation than to stop everything for eight hours and resume again. We’ll do two more of these, then you’ll go off the clock and we’ll resume again later tomorrow.”

A few minutes, Kyra thought. That probably couldn’t hurt, until it did.

*

She dropped into a busy street market, the portal whirling into existence in a shaded side street, where for five fascinated minutes, watched people walking around stalls decorated with bright colours. There wasn’t anything unusual that she could see, until Kyra realised that nine out of every ten people was female. The few men were surrounded protectively by women and they weren’t doing any of the selling or buying. She wanted to walk among them and learn more and was regretful when she once more felt the portal plucking at her clothes and pulling her away.

After that, Rowena let her go to bed. They would, the witch said, resume in early afternoon the next day which was most opportune for the spell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've reworked chapter 6 after deciding I wanted to do it a different way, so folks who read this far before chapter 7 was added probably need to reread it. Sorry. Real life has been a bit difficult, so my writing brain decided to take a holiday. I've been trying to kick start said brain for awhile.

Crowley was quieter the next evening, almost subdued, Bobby thought. The truth of what Rowena had brought to their door was sinking in and he was probably upset that Kyra wasn’t here as planned. So he sat, meticulous in one of his black suits – no casual clothing in front of the Winchesters – and read some book of Bobby’s that he’d picked up without looking at its title.

Bobby himself checked the supplies in fridge and pantry. He knew there was more than enough; they’d expected Kyra, after all, so he’d simply made sure there was beer and various snacks. But he found his feet straying to Kyra’s room, which until now had been left as it was for her weekly returns and now had been reorganised with an extra single bed so that Sam and Dean could stay here. The hunter mentally cursed himself for being pathetic. He was still standing in the doorway to her room when he heard the car outside and then Crowley’s voice saying, “Heads up, love.”

Crowley _didn’t_ need protecting, Bobby knew he didn’t, but looking at his face, the hunter thought, “If they give him any grief, they’re not stayin’, no matter we have to fight this on their own.”

Then the knock sounded on the door and he went to open it, tense as he’d rarely been around these men, whom he had known as young boys and who still seemed that way to him sometimes. And let Sam and Dean Winchester into the house.

Crowley had risen to his feet, letting the book fall on to the chair, watching, tense, as they greeted Bobby. Awkward, from the absence and from the chasm which had split between them because of _his_ presence and the history they shared. From Dean there was the undercurrent of embarrassment, being in front of a being who’d known him as a demon. Who knew the darkness he’d explored and the adventures as well. From Sam, a deeper kind of knowledge from having seen Crowley turned almost human for those few anguished moments and heard him cry that he deserved to be loved.

“Hey, Crowley,” Dean said, looking straight at him, sober and somehow older.

And, “We’ll get your kid back,” from Sam. To Crowley, then to Bobby also, bringing them together. “I figured I could try and talk to Rowena,” Sam added.

“That’s what we figured,” Bobby said, an intense relief and gratitude flooding him. “I’ll get some beers, you settle down – oh, you can dump your bags in the room here.” Dean nodded, passing him with his and his brother’s duffels in his hands. None of them said any embarrassing words, but all of them understood what had just passed.

Crowley, Bobby saw, was being quieter than usual and the hunter didn’t think he’d heard him say anything snarky since Sam and Dean had arrived. He had, in a matter of fact tone, related the details of Rowena’s visit in full.

“Yeah,” Dean said when Bobby joined in to say how he had talked Crowley out of ‘porting to Rowena’s house. “She’d have had something waiting for you all right. But I think Bobby’s right; she was mainly trying to stir you up. She’d know the buttons to press; am I right?”

“I was eight when we last had much to do with each other,” Crowley said drily, “but yes, I think so.”

“She knows more about you than that,” Sam put in. “All the time she spent with you once you met up; you can bet she was taking notes. She sees people.” He looked serious and Bobby reminded himself that if Rowena had any friend among them, it would have to be Sam. And this was his take on her. “We have to know if there’s more to it. I’ll go.”

“Because she won’t trap _you_?” Now Crowley sounded derisive; never mind that he’d agreed with Bobby that Sam would be best to do this very thing.

“She might,” Sam said. “But the kind of talk we have to have can’t be on the phone. I don’t think she’ll turn me into a frog just for going to talk on your behalf and Bobby’s.”

“No,” Crowley conceded. “It’ll make her curious and she’ll wait just to see what your plan really is. This working, whatever it is, could have been begun earlier so Bobby and I wouldn’t have needed to be given any explanation at all.”

“What if it takes longer than a week?” Dean asked. He shrugged when everyone looked at him. “Just saying.”

“Kyra talked to us on the phone and Rowena left to taunt us,” Crowley mused. “So it wasn’t in progress. Yes, some magical workings must be begun at certain times; equinox, dark of the moon, whatever. But I can’t find any reason to distinguish last night as any particular point to begin.” He shrugged. “There are many factors and I’m not saying I know them all. I doubt there’s any working at all. Kyra may believe there is. But it’s likely only Rowena trying to drive a wedge, to end the arrangement that she comes back here. It’s not part of the actual geas.”

“I think I have to talk to her,” Sam said again. “I’ll be able to work things out in person that you can’t know on a phone call. What’s the address?”

“In the morning,” Bobby started to say but Crowley shook his head.

“I’ll take you there,” he said, lifting up a hand to ward off Bobby’s objection. “I won’t go near the place myself. I’ll stay out of her detection range and point Sam at the house. Or do you really want to drive another three hours to get there, Jolly Green?”

“It’s useful to have the car and our gear,” Sam said. “I’d also rather not be reliant solely on you to move us around. We don’t know what’ll go down or who might be put out of action.”

“Also you still don’t entirely trust me,” Crowley said. Sam did not answer, which was answer enough. Crowley shrugged, not really seeming offended. Dean raised brows at him, elaborately querying. _Are you really surprised?_

Crowley waved a hand like an annoyed diva being bothered with unnecessary details. “Have it your own way,” he drawled. “But I should be there, on call, as it were.”

They settled on the Monday morning in the end. Sam and Dean were both weary and Bobby told them he’d rather they didn’t keep driving in that condition, which made both roll their eyes like teenagers. He went off to bed before they did – Crowley had left the room earlier than that – and was relieved to find the demon already there. Bobby hadn’t expected anything to happen beyond sleep, if he could manage it, but Crowley put all his powers towards enticement and teasing, with a most satisfactory result for both men. It resulted in a better than expected night’s rest for the hunter, until grey dawn rolled around and it was time to rise and put what passed for their plan into action.

*

Kyra jumped again, the following morning.

She found herself in a daytime jungle of kudzu choking trees, of blazing heat and humidity and buzzing flies. Something approached with a dragging stride, something upright like a person but stinking and rotted, making a gasping moan as it made for her. A moan filled with a dreadful, endless hunger. Kyra struggled to see it clearly through the trees, even when it was within a few metres, but the terrible sounds convinced her it was no human. She had five minutes before Rowena and the others pulled her out. A very long time right now. 

So Kyra ran, jumping and dodging obstacles in her path. Creepers snagged her foot a dozen times and she had to scramble up and keep going. Whatever had happened here, she wasn’t going to find Rafael. Or maybe anyone human at all.

There were more of the things following her. Zombies? They made her think of the old horror movies that made her laugh more than scared her, even as a young kid sneaking viewings. They were slow and cumbersome but they never stopped. Surely it had to be five minutes by now! She turned about, hoping to see the portal forming but that action had lost her time and the zombies were closing. She’d have to go up, climb something and get high enough to dodge them. Then hope she could jump or fall into the portal when it formed.

Something shot past her, faster than any creature, and she realised it was a crossbow bolt, unerringly through the eye of the leading zombie. She didn’t dare stop, though, and kept running, though her pace was getting ragged with fatigue. There was so much forest detritus on the ground that she couldn’t run cleanly, she kept having to pull free of entanglements or jump over clumps or logs and that was wearing her down faster than normal. It looked as though nothing had come through this forest for years.

“Get down!” The voice was hoarse but definitely male human and Kyra obeyed it, with a gritted-teeth prayer that the owner of said voice knew what he was doing. More bolts flew overhead and then someone pushed past her through trees and she heard hard breathing and the heavy thumps of bodies falling. She looked around, then hauled herself up. Her arms and legs had the strength of spaghetti and shook as Kyra tried to steady herself.

A man, wild-haired and bearded, dressed something like a biker who’d been marooned here for maybe ten years, shouldered a heavy crossbow and studied her. Kyra understood his disbelief. Here she was in this wild place, dressed in neat jeans, shirt and jacket, perspiring heavily now but mostly clean, without even a backpack or a weapon to protect herself. She’d asked Rowena about that and the witch had said they weren’t needed for so short a time. Kyra was simply to stand on the spot and make mental notes of the conditions. Well, “the spot” was lost somewhere in the kudzu back there and she was maybe about to be in more trouble than before.

“Say something,” the man said. “Prove to me you’re not a walker!”

“I – my name is Kyra,” she stammered.

“How many walkers have you killed?” His stare travelled over her, completely without interest or intent except in her answer to his question. 

“What – I haven’t….”

“How many people have you killed?”

Kyra’s mind froze at that, going to Bobby and Crowley and whether she was complicit in the killing they’d had to do over the time she’d known them. She started to repeat her answer to the first question but was interrupted by his exclamation of shock.

The portal.

The light flickered up and down, the hint of a door opening, not the uncontrolled hurricane Rafael had fallen into. Her rescuer/interrogator jumped back, giving her a chance to make for it. “I’m sorry,” she blurted over her shoulder. “Thank you. But I have to leave now.”

His voice, raised in desperate question, followed her into the ether. Kyra never heard what he asked.

*

“Zombies,” Kyra said flatly. “It was a zombie apocalypse. There was this one guy, this hunter with a crossbow and I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him. Because you wouldn’t even let me take a knife with me.”

“Did you recognise the man?” Maria, Rafael’s mother, didn’t even seem to hear what Kyra said.

They sat in the incongruously cosy living room of Rowena’s rented house. Overstuffed furniture, fancy lamps, artwork on the walls so cutesy Kyra couldn’t stand to look at it. The three witches sat around her for the debriefing. Darkness closed in outside; time had run through the rest of the day in the scant minutes Kyra had been running for her life. She was still desperate for a hot shower.

“No,” Kyra said. “Why would I?”

Rowena murmured something and Maria shrugged. Next to her, her sister Juanita stared at Kyra. It still felt eerie to look at their sameness, but at least they weren’t identical in personality. Maria could be social, even friendly sometimes though Kyra always felt as though Maria was pretending with her. Juanita didn’t try at all. She hardly talked except to back up something Maria said and the woman had been freaking Kyra out from the start.

“In the first batch you let me take my knife and the other stuff,” Kyra said. She was exhausted.

The zombies wasn’t even the first one today. The first jump, for which Rowena had decreed she’d be there one hour, hadn’t quite turned out that way. Kyra had emerged into a city under curfew. She'd given way to the temptation to explore. A block warden of some sort had accosted her and when Kyra could not give a believable address, the woman had hauled Kyra into a fortified shelter with a group of homeless people, wearily silent, where she had spent the hours until dawn in the light of a single candle, listening to howls in the night. It turned out the supernatural was in charge here and humans were supposed to be hiding in their homes at the close of day, when vampires and others would emerge.

Kyra had been on edge the whole time, expecting the portal to materialise at any time. Only much later did she learn that Rowena had put in experimental safeguards to prevent it opening in the presence of others. In the morning, after Kyra had stiffly walked away, with the warden staring suspiciously after her, the portal had immediately opened once she was alone. She’d told them she hadn’t slept but Rowena hadn’t cared. Then she'd shrugged and removed the safeguards, saying it was obviously more of a risk to have them.

“We need to know whether it affects the portal stability for items to be taken through,” Rowena said.

“I’m dressed, aren’t I? Clothes are items. Or do you want me to walk through in the nude next time?”

By Rowena’s expression, that maybe hadn’t been smart to bring up. “One more test today,” was all she said. “We’ll make it short, just in case.” And then, of course, it had been zombies.

“Go clean up,” the witch said now. “I think we’ve learned a lot from that little sojourn. I feel we’re getting closer to the alternate where Rafael is.”

Kyra had no such feeling but she admitted to herself it wasn’t like she knew. She had learned some spells – first level spells, Rowena called them – but it would take years to be able to defend herself with magic and she didn’t know that she could stand to be around Rowena and the others that long. She nodded wearily to the three witches and went to her small bedroom to get clean clothes. Damn, she’d left the jacket on her chair. It probably needed a trip through the laundry like everything else she’d had on. Kyra headed back to the living room but paused when she heard Maria’s voice raised to easily-eavesdropping volume.

“She _is_ gradually getting closer to Rafael. All the spell results indicate that! As you say, the emotional link between them is all we have for a lifeline. I _would_ have thought the link between a mother and son would be as strong….”

Her voice was almost vicious, making Kyra shiver as she heard it. She’d guessed that Maria and Juanita didn’t like her much, blaming her for Rafael’s entire situation, but hearing it proved was really unpleasant.

“Not since your little sojourn with Lucifer and his demons,” Rowena said, her voice clinically emotionless. It was an interesting problem to her, Kyra thought, nothing more. “And the raw, um, emotion between two such young teenagers is considerable, isn’t it? We use what we have, Maria. And what we have is this girl.”

“Yes,” Maria said. “We use her as much as we can. We need her to locate my son, no more. Once she’s done that, we can leave go of her. Pull him through the portal, that’s all we need do. If you’re correct.”

“You doubt me?”

“You said the alternate where he landed would rid itself of him, that he would just bounce back here. That hasn’t happened.”

“Dear, it’s all theories. What we’re doing now is exploring those theories.”

“He comes back,” Maria said flatly. “Not the girl. He needs to partner with a girl of the witch lines, not dilute the power by breeding with this bitch.”

“It’s probably a few years before he’ll want to actually breed with anyone, darling,” Rowena said with a little laugh. “Fucking is another matter, but I do see your point.”

Kyra felt very, very cold. Quickly she turned away, went to the bathroom and went through the mechanics of a shower she no longer enjoyed. Dressed and went back along to the living room, deliberately rattling the door as she slid it open, meeting Rowena’s fake welcoming smile with one that was just as false. “I’m going to bed, if you don’t need me any more, Rowena,” she said. And with an effort, smiled at Maria. “I’m sorry it wasn’t the right one, Maria. I will keep trying.”

“Of course,” the other witch said smoothly. “Each time you’re closer to the alternate where he is. Rowena has told us. Tomorrow or the next day, we will try again.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Only when she was in bed, the light off, did Kyra relax even a little but even then she didn’t cry. That had to wait. Crowley had warned her, well before the ‘offer’ from Rowena had come up. She remembered very well how his warning had come about.

She had been playing chess with him, not studying for once, though he’d clearly regarded the game as a teaching experience. Kyra certainly hadn’t had a shadow of a hope at beating him. Bobby hadn’t been home at the time, she recalled.

Crowley made his checkmate move and sat back, smirking. Kyra sighed dramatically before tipping over her king. “I think I lasted a whole ten moves that game,” she said.

“Oh, at least. You’re starting to see ahead a bit more. What do you do if we’re suddenly separated – you from Bobby and myself?”

Kyra gave him a startled look, then glanced at the battlefield scene on the chessboard as though seeking inspiration there. Crowley did have a tendency to drop these questions on her, or at least, she couldn’t see that the chess game was any sort of lead in.

“What could stop you?” she asked, trying to sound calm. “You’re not…”

“Planning on it. No.” His gaze rested on her face. “I plan a lot but I can’t plan everything, love. In this game, you’ve suddenly been whisked away, as you have before. Maybe you’ve even agreed to it, let’s say. But it’s not turning out how you thought.”

“I didn’t mean to run away that time that Rafael went through the portal. It wasn’t….”

“I know.” Crowley still watched her. “I know. But humour me. Come on, play the game.”

“I’d start looking for how to get back to you, without letting on that I wanted to.”

“Good. But before that, before you even start planning that, what do you do?”

Kyra thought hard, not wanting to disappoint him. A thought bloomed suddenly in her mind. “I don’t let them see what I’m thinking. Even when I think I’m on my own, I’m not. I’ve got to be what they want me to be, all the time. Keep the true me in that separate bit in my mind. Close the door on it.”

“Good,” Crowley nodded. “We aren’t talking true magic this time, not a geas. In this game we haven’t had a chance to do that. You need to make them believe you, whoever they are, and to do that, _you_ have to believe you. You aren’t a demon who’s had decades or centuries of practice before she joins a sales team so you have to go by simple rules.” Kyra bit back a laugh; he likely wouldn’t see it as funny, a demon used as a role model for a teenager. She wondered whether Bobby would. “You can’t be too nice,” he cautioned. “Say the people you’re with kidnapped you or got you to come with them by lying to you? If you’re nice after that, they’ll think you’re up to something.”

“But I could call you, couldn’t I?” Kyra said hesitantly. She didn’t refer to the charm directly. He had told her not to, ever, right after he had given it to her. _One use only_ , he’d said. _So be sure._

He shrugged. “Let’s say you can’t. There are scenarios where you can’t. Where some other magic is being used. Don’t ever assume I can get you out of whatever, just because I _have_.” He looked at the board. “Another game?”

Now, in bed in a sickeningly flowery room, with magic buzzing around her, Kyra yawned deeply, stretched and settled herself. “Finally we’re getting close!” she said aloud, to herself and the listeners she was sure were there. As Crowley had taught her, it was best to keep to the truth wherever she could, and she did.

She had no idea whether they had discovered the charm. It was hidden in the best way to hide something, as Crowley had told her. Casually carried in the pocket of whatever pants she was wearing, along with the front door key and some loose change and a handkerchief. He had given it to her but it hadn’t been his, to start with. She reached out a hand to the bedside table, where the pocket detritus currently rested and found the charm, touched the soft white fur of it.

Rafael’s rabbit’s foot. When Crowley had first shown it to her, he’d said he found it lying on the ground directly where Rafael had been swept up into the portal. His eyes had gleamed when she identified it. “We can use this,” was all he said, but it was only after Rowena had trapped Kyra into her deal that he gave it to her and told her what he had done. _If they ask or try to take it, cry and beg to keep it,_ Crowley had said. _Say you think it will help you focus. It well may. You say he used it for magic so it’s indeed keyed to him._

Rowena and the others had created a magic circle barrier around the house to prevent intruders. It pinged even when one of them walked through it. And ever since Maria and Juanita had shown up, she was never left alone except when she was in bed at night or in the bathroom. Even then, Kyra knew better than to think she wasn’t being tracked. After six months she was almost used to it. But if she called Crowley in here, she could be summoning him into a trap. There might be a devil’s trap she didn’t know about under the carpet and even if there wasn’t, there were three powerful witches right there.

Using the charm would also alert them, whether he responded immediately or not. No. She had to give herself more lead time than that and be more awake than she was right now after today’s “experiment.” Tomorrow then. She didn’t think she could sleep, with that plan ahead, but she was wrong.

*

Crowley yawned theatrically when Bobby tapped his shoulder, grinning as he heard the hunter’s impatient sigh behind him in bed. It felt so good to feel Bobby’s body behind his back, comfortably close and protective. Illusion, it was all illusion, but he’d take it. “Time already? I may need more beauty sleep, darling.”

“It’s time,” Bobby told him, “and you don’t need to sleep, remember?”

“How charming, love.”

“You’re slippin’ if you got to fish for compliments.” Bobby chuckled softly and rested an arm over him. The room was only faintly grey, he noted, the hunter had woken precisely when he had told Crowley he would. “Look, with luck Sam’s chat won’t take long. If he can make Rowena see sense, you can be back here within the hour. You won’t need to ride back with them. Come to that, you don’t actually need to ride there with them.”

“So why are you making sure I’m alert and ready to roll?”

“I told you I would,” Bobby said. He sounded faintly surprised. “Also I’m thinkin’ maybe I should come along too.”

“No,” Crowley said and grimaced slightly as he sensed the nature of Bobby’s silence behind him. That order had come too fast, too much…how had Bobby put it before when Crowley got what he considered bossy? Too much the King of Hell. 

“Me bein’ there won’t trigger any explosions,” Bobby said. “You mixed with Sam and Dean, on the other hand….”

“I don’t know what she’s doing but she’s planning something,” Crowley said. “And if Sam’s chat with her goes well, that’ll be a first, darling. I don’t…..”

“Don’t say you don’t want me in combat…. _darlin’.”_ Bobby’s voice deepened to a growl Crowley couldn’t help but find sexy. This wasn’t an invitation and always ready though he might be, the time was not now. “Are we a unit or are we not?”

*

Sam and Dean looked at Bobby, then Crowley, then each other in a way Crowley had to fight not to find hilarious. Himself, he appreciated the way Bobby had outflanked him. 

“We’ll stay outside with the car, unless you signal,” Bobby said, daring either Winchester to question his addition to the party. 

“Sam’s gonna talk to Rowena on his own,” Dean said. “ _I_ was gonna stay with the car.”

“Until someone raises their voice and you dash to the rescue,” Crowley said, openly disbelieving. “She’ll know you’re there. You two are practically shackled together. It’s incestuous is what it is.”

Sam sighed. “I was _gonna_ drive there on my own,” he said. “Why do I need the comedic chorus?”

“What?” said Dean, while Crowley laughed. Even Bobby smiled, worried though he was. 

“Fine, let’s go,” Sam said.

Crowley flicked a flirting sort of glance at Bobby, who looked concerned all over again, probably at him doing that in front of the Winchesters. “We’ll have the back seat all to ourselves, darling.”

“No messing around in the back seat,” Dean warned.

“Yes, _Dad_ ,” Crowley shot back. But once settled, it was Bobby who kissed him, with a quick smile for his surprise.

“IOU for when we get back,” he said.

He’d known Crowley’s thoughts. It wasn’t difficult, knowing as he did how the demon would so often wake and want him again or just want Bobby to _hold_ him in the dark, never admitting it aloud. Bobby fleetingly thought about teasing him, of sliding a hand over his thigh in fake seduction. He’d enjoy that, they both would….but chances were, Crowley wouldn’t leave matters there and that could be kinda embarrassing. Bobby glanced towards that area, raised an eyebrow and caught the demon’s knowing smirk.

“Later,” Crowley murmured in assent.

“Don’t make me come back there,” Dean called sternly and Bobby had to stuff a fold of his sleeve into his mouth, trying not to laugh as he saw Crowley’s elaborate eye roll. Even on the verge of a goddamned war, you had to laugh, didn’t you?

*

The witches were all up; Kyra could hear them talking in the kitchen as though everything was super-normal. She dressed, still feeling weary as though she’d been awake all night. Fleetingly she wondered what the repeated trips to alternate universes were doing to her. It didn’t feel good, whatever it was. She was feeling the loss of her day off and recharge. Slowly she walked into the kitchen and began the process of refuelling. Bowl, cereal – it didn’t matter what kind – milk.

“How are you feeling today, lass?” Rowena asked, her tone brisk.

“Tired. I need a rest.”

“Soon, I promise. I’ve done some tweaking on my spell and I believe I can now place you in the reality Rafael occupies. All our work – all _our_ work is beginning to create results, Kyra. You should be proud of everything you’ve achieved.”

Kyra nodded, looking at Rowena’s brilliant and fake smile, then the intent, serious stares of Maria and Juanita. “I am,” she lied. She was better at that too. Rowena was a good teacher even when she didn’t mean to be.

“So,” the witch said, “today there’s just the one task. I believe – we believe – it’s endgame. What do you say? Up for one more?”

Kyra wondered suddenly; what if she did that one pass through the portal and this weariness she felt was suddenly ten times worse? She _knew_ now they didn’t care if she died, just so long as Rafael hooked on to her, like he was the fish and she the bait. She was going to have to do this and Crowley and Bobby would have no clue now, where she was. 

“I want to walk outside,” she said.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?”

“To get my mind ready,” Kyra said. “I need to be sharp, I need to wake my mind up properly for this. It’s too important not to.” _Please let my lying be good enough, let her believe me._ “Nowhere far, just around the block. Do you want to come with me?” She looked at each of them, trying to seem a bit impatient rather than pleading. Maria shrugged when Rowena looked at her and Juanita didn’t even bother responding.

“Ten minutes,” Rowena said. “You need to be here while I do the preparation; I can’t be yelling out of the front door while I’m trying to compose my mind. No stopping for an ice cream.”

 _Was that too easy?_ It was still early morning, she realised as she closed the front door behind her, resisting the urge to linger and listen to whatever they were saying. She must have woken not much past sunrise and it was barely seven o’clock now. _They think I’m with them, they must do. What’s that word Bobby told me? Something about Stockholm, where you fall in with what your enemies are saying._

This town was a base of the National Guard and their trucks and personnel were everywhere. Rebuilding and moving materials and people. So not a surprise to see an army truck parked at the corner as she slowly made her way up there. She reached into her jacket, to the inside pocket and closed her hand around the charm. And called.

A hand closed around her arm. “You didn’t have to shout, darling,” Crowley said. Kyra choked back a scream and felt it shiver inside her. She felt faint and wondered whether it would solve everything to just pass out. None of the Army people were rushing over, so she knew Crowley had used the “Don’t look here” spell to cover the exact moment of him blinking in. Then he stepped back a pace and surveyed her, his expression grim. She wondered whether he was angry at her for making the call but he said, “You look like, if you’ll pardon the expression, hell. What has my not so beloved mother done to you?”

“Jumps into other worlds,” Kyra said quickly, aware that she was probably right at the end of the assigned ten minutes. “Two yesterday…more last night. I’m actually really tired so I’m not sure when things happened. But I’m…I’m scared something’s happening to me. I said I wanted to walk, to clear my head and she believed me, maybe because it’s not actually a lie. She wants to send me again, now, she says it’s for sure where Rafael is. That all the jumps so far have been to, um, narrow things down.”

“She’s been sending you alone? Not with the boy’s mother or aunt?”

“Just me. Because of our link….”

“I doubt it,” Crowley said, more to himself than her. He took his phone out of his pocket, hit a fast dial and said, “Boys. It’s me. Kyra is with me, so come out from behind the Army’s skirts, do.”

He’d said boys plural, but only Sam strolled out from behind the Army truck where, Kyra realised, the Impala must be parked; a most convenient hiding place. The taller Winchester winked at her and then strolled on past, heading for Rowena’s house. “Sam’s going to have a word with her,” Crowley said. “Parent/teacher conference, you might say.”

“But she’ll think I set this up.” Kyra’s voice husked into nothing. She felt terribly exposed out here on the street, even with Crowley there. “The deal, the geas….”

“Doesn’t hold if she breaks the agreement and I’d say she has,” he cut in.

“Sam doesn’t know.”

“He does. I had my phone on; they could hear us.”

“Dean’s in the car?”

“For now, though I don’t expect that to last. And Bobby.”

“Can I go over there or should I not?”

“Hold my hand,” Crowley said for answer and when she did, he ported them both. As always, this felt like she had just blinked and opened her eyes again to find she was somewhere else. In this case, standing beside the open back door of the Impala, where Bobby was in the act of climbing out. Dean sat behind the wheel.

Kyra threw herself into Bobby’s arms, hugging desperately hard. He held her back as Crowley had and looked every bit as grim as the demon. “Multiple portal hops in the last few days,” Crowley said before she had to. “Not that I’m an expert on the science but I’d guess that’s not exactly a health treatment.”

“I’m gonna kill Rowena…”

“After me, darling.”

“Drive to where we said,” Bobby told Dean, ushering Kyra into the back seat and pulling on Crowley’s arm to get him to follow. When Dean steered the Impala on towards Rowena’s house, Kyra made a sound of protest and tried to sink lower in the seat.

“Google Maps is a fantastic thing,” Dean said, stopping one house beyond and turning neatly. “Nobody in Rowena’s house can see us here unless they come right out on to the front lawn.”

Kyra felt a sudden spasm in her right arm and then shoulder. She jerked against the back of the seat and made an “ouch” sound. As Bobby started to ask her what was wrong the spasm came again, ten times more painful, a white heat inside her muscle. She yelled….and disappeared.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam considered what might be the best approach; fronting up unannounced and probably unwelcome to the house of a powerful witch and her besties. Make that the _warded_ house of a powerful witch etcetera. The magic fairly prickled around him as he stepped on to the porch and began to push at him as he reached out to touch the door.

Probably targeting Bobby and Crowley more than anyone else, he guessed. Rowena didn’t have any particular malevolence towards him as far as he knew, though he was far from happy with her lately. The ward simply suggested very strongly that he not come any further. Were he a charity and/or religious doorknocker, no doubt he would have simply decided this was an unfriendly, without really knowing why and moved on.

He sighed and waited. After five minutes or so he said, “Hello, Rowena. It’s Sam, as I’m sure you know. Can I talk to you?”

“Samuel, I’m sure you _can_ ; the question is _may_ you.” Her voice came from behind him and he startled a little but managed not to yelp. Or turn.

“All right. May I,” he said, as patiently as he could. “I’m sure you’re actually still inside, by the way.”

“You do spoil my fun,” the witch chided and the door clicked open and swung wide, with no one touching it. A moment later Rowena, in a filmy black dress, appeared, leaning against the door jamb. “You _are_ alone,” she said with a note of surprise. “Where’s your brother? Practically joined at the hip, aren’t you?”

Sam bit back the retort that he’d already had that one from her son and couldn’t she be more original? 

“Do you want to talk to Dean too?”

“Hmm. Let me think. No. So did my son send you while he cowers behind his gorgeously hunky hunter?”

“For some reason which is seeming less likely all the time, everyone else thinks it’d be better if I talked to you,” Sam said. “So can I come in? May I come in,” he added pointedly. Rowena smiled delightedly.

“Not at the moment, Samuel. We’re preparing for a working and everyone needs to concentrate.”

“But you can answer the door.”

“For a little while,” the witch said, rolling her eyes. 

Sam moved up a little. Rowena fluttered her eyelashes, craning her neck up at him and with a put upon sigh, moved back so that she could look at him properly. “Just the hallway, Samuel!”

“Thanks,” Sam said. He took the barest step over the threshold. “Look, we’re worried about Kyra. Bobby says she didn’t sound happy, on the phone, when they talked. While you were with them. I don’t even try to understand why you and Crowley have to wind each other up, but it feels like you’re putting a teenaged kid in the middle.”

“A teenaged girl with a unique link to the person we’re seeking,” Rowena said.

“Why do you even care about Rafael anyway? I get that his mom and auntie are doing anything to get him back but why do you care? Or is it that you’re working out how to use the portals…..and exploit alternate realities and he’s just an excuse?”

She shrugged lightly, smiled again. “You always get to the heart of everything, Samuel. I don’t care, it’s true, but Kyra is the best, um, means to achieve what I want and what Maria and Juanita want. She also wants to learn magic and this is my price for teaching her. Three birds, you could say, one very useful little stone.”

Sam’s mind went rapidly through her explanation and his expression became grim. “You’re sending her through alone,” he confirmed. “So you get the benefit of learning through her, but she’s the only one in danger. You know that the apocalypse world nearly killed all of us dozens of times over and we’re experienced hunters. Look, let me help you. I’ll even take point and go through the damn portal, just…..”

“That’s lovely of you, Samuel, but you’re just not the right bit of bait. And now, I’m out of time and I must go. And listen to me. If you and your friends interfere with our work, you will regret it.” Despite her light, teasing tone, her eyes were cold. “If Robert Singer and Fergus try it, they’ll regret it even more. I will suck all of Singer’s air out of him and as for Fergus, he’ll be ratcheted back to Hell on a slingshot.”

Sam heard the venom in her voice then and it bewildered him; never mind who she was and who Crowley was. “It wasn’t his fault, you know, being born,” he said. “Whatever else was, that wasn’t. I don’t get why you hate him the way you do. Do you not like that he’s, um, gay with Bobby and all that?”

“Gay?” She dropped the word with disdain. “I will never understand modern American. Certainly, when I was young and even more lovely, behaving that way got you a trip to the scaffold. But no, it’s no matter to me where he dips his wick, or who dips theirs in him.” She paused, grimacing, then visibly shook off the thought and sailed on. “ But all this power he’s got, that he _can_ have, and he wastes it trying for acceptance with humans. He could be so much more, he could literally rule the world, but he just doesn’t apply himself. That’s why Lucifer got the better of him. Fergus used to follow Dean about in the same way, you know. Well, not _exactly_ the same but you see where I’m going. I hope that helps, Samuel. We won’t be in touch. Goodbye!”

She moved back into the house, he moved out and the door slammed shut on its own. Sam walked far enough away to at least hope she wasn’t listening before getting out his phone. “Did you manage it?” he asked. It wasn’t like the opportunity had been huge.

“Oh, please,” said Crowley’s voice. Then Sam’s phone ended the call without his volition. In the next moment, the demon stood beside him and Sam reached out reluctantly to grip his shoulder. They winked out.

*

Kyra woke up, finding herself lying on something hard that turned out to be the uncarpeted floor of the temple room. She looked up and regretted it at once. Maria, Juanita and Rowena, all in filmy black, were in a circle around her, staring.

“Never try to fool me,” Rowena said above her. She didn’t even sound angry. “You entered into a contract with me and all I had to do was reach down your life line and yank you back here. You called him, didn’t you, called my son? I could sense him standing right next to you when I located you.”

Kyra wearily climbed to her feet and straightened her jacket. 

“He’s still standing next to her,” said a familiar raspy British voice. The forms of Juanita and Maria blurred and resolved into Crowley and Bobby. Rowena made a very small sound of shock and then beamed so proudly at Crowley that he blinked in surprise.

“There may be hope for you yet, Fergus. What did you do with my ladies?”

“They’re out cold in your living room,” Bobby growled. “Probably deserve worse but they ain’t hurt. The boys are, uh, tying ‘em up. Not in the kinky way…..”

“You make me tired, Robert. Oh, come on in, Winchesters! The more the merrier,” Rowena sighed.

The door creaked open. Dean looked in, assessed the situation and gestured to Sam behind him.

“You really should be more careful who you allow in,” Crowley said to his mother, who wore a look of polite interest. “When Sam got his big toe over the line I was able to piggy-back, you might say, and bring Bobby and Dean with me, then Sam. Once you’d allowed him past the warding, it was simple.”

“Don’t gloat, Fergus, it’s not becoming,” Rowena sighed. She did not even appear worried or even look towards Kyra. Kyra felt the air pressure change and knew the portal was seconds away. She started to say something…..and in that microsecond blinked out.

Bobby had been looking right at her and saw the portal form around her like a miniature twister, then seemingly break apart and vanish, taking the girl with it. He yelled and stepped forward but there was nothing there.

“You knew that would happen!”

“Of course I did, Robert, we’ve worked very hard on these spells,” Rowena sighed. “If you mean I knew you couldn’t stop it happening, well, as Dean might eloquently say, _duh._ I knew Fergus would keep talking until it was too late.”

“Send us,” Bobby said to her, while Crowley glowered.

Rowena’s look of triumph didn’t fade but she quirked a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “That’ll give you more data, won’t it, if more people travel?” Bobby asked. “What do you care if we save our kid, so long as you get your information and the Catalanos get their kid back? Sam and Dean will stay here. Hostages to good behaviour and all that crap.”

“Hey!” Dean protested. “We should come with you.”

“No. I’d rather we had friends on this side if you get me. Sam can explain to Rowena how it would all have gone better if she’d just waited to listen to him before hooking Kyra like a goddamned trout.” Sam’s expression didn’t indicate much friendship, even when Rowena slanted a look in his direction. “That’s the deal. We don’t take you out….any of you. You deserve it but we don’t do it. We don’t put your name out to all hunters as belonging on the better dead list. And you send us after her. Salvage what little you can, Rowena. ”

“Dear Robert,” Rowena cooed, “you had only to ask.”

What was charming in Crowley, Bobby thought, was cloying in his mother.

“Then let’s go,” he said.

*

Rowena did, at least, fulfil this promise.

Bobby blinked in and found he was standing in front of Kyra, so close that she was staring up at him in shock. Crowley was a few paces away, turning to study their surrounds.

They were in farm country; Bobby recognised that much. He guessed somewhere further north than South Dakota, maybe even Canada, but there were no signs or other clues around to tell him. Just a sharper feel to the air, more like fall than the summer they had come from. The shadows were longer, Bobby noted, and the sun lower over the horizon. They’d gained several hours at least; no telling whether more time had passed at home . He glanced at Crowley by his side, got a raised-eyebrows look and a slight shrug.

“Kyra,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me what they were doing?”

“We only just started,” she said, which wasn’t an answer in his book. “Why did you follow me? I’ve got this.”

Bobby studied her face. She seemed thinner and faded like someone who was very old or had been ill for a long time. When he had last seen her just over a week ago, she’d been a bit sleep-deprived, sure, and complained about all the studying Rowena made her do, but not like this. “How many trips through the portal have they made you do?” he asked.

Kyra held up a hand and silently ticked off her fingers. “This is the fifth,” she said.

“Six counting the one where we came to find you,” Bobby corrected. “Over what length of time?”

“Since I talked to Crowley on the phone.”

“Saturday night?” The sudden rise in Bobby’s volume made Kyra visibly start, but she nodded. “And none of them have ever gone with you?”

“No. I’m the one with the link…..”

“You’re the one who’s _expendable_ ,” Bobby growled. “Well, it ends here, you hear me? We do nothing but stand here until time’s up and the portal opens.”

“I haven’t been hurt,” Kyra assured him. “And I want to find him.” No need even to say Rafael’s name any more, she thought; we all know it. But they don’t care. “The zombies did chase me, but the man with the crossbow got them.”

“Kyra, just doin’ the crossings is hurting you. Can’t you feel it?”

She stared back at him. “We’re here now and I’m going to look, whatever you want to do.”

“How do you even know where to look? She give you any guidelines?”

Kyra delved into her jeans pocket and brought something out. Bobby tried to identify it for a moment; a lump of white fur on a silver chain. “What’s that? She give it to you?”

“No. I did,” Crowley said. “It’s a lucky rabbit’s foot that belonged to young Rafael. He dropped it when he fell through the portal. I made some, um, improvements to it. Multi-skilled, it is. I only intended Kyra to be able to use it to summon me.”

“But you’re usin’ it to look for Rafael,” Bobby summed up and she nodded. “They know?”

“They know that’s what I’m trying to do with it,” Kyra answered. Her expression still verged on hostile, though she had not walked away from them. Bobby could see signs of the adult she’d be, not too far in the future either. He guessed she was relieved to see them, but also thought they were going to take over.

“This is your hunt,” Bobby said. He glimpsed Crowley stiffen a little, off in his peripheral, but his focus remained on Kyra. “Whatever experience we’ve got, it’s yours. But a lot of hunters work in pairs or trios, you know, and that’s because it’s safer, if safety means a thing here.”

Kyra nodded seriously. She turned side-on and held the rabbit’s foot out on its chain. The air was quite still. A few seconds later the chain swung, making Kyra jump and have to stand for long enough for the chain to settle and then swing again. It moved out towards the left and remained there, pulling on the chain like a restive dog. Kyra looked at them again and then turned to start walking along the road in that direction. The senior hunter and the demon followed after.

Kyra moved just ahead of them. She was so tense that Bobby expected to see her shiver, but she didn’t run ahead or do anything else for a moment. “I can hear people,” she said after a few minutes, but her gesture was vague. Bobby had not heard anything and Crowley shrugged a negative. Younger ears, the hunter thought.

“Lead on then,” he said.

Kyra took them along the narrow road, the direction they’d been facing. She was visibly concentrating, moving with a grace and silence Bobby envied, though recognising she lacked subtlety. Anyone watching her would have known she was hunting, he thought. The fields alongside the road had sheep and cattle in them, not tall crops that could have hidden people or creatures, but he didn’t relax. 

Had things gone otherwise, Kyra would have been here alone, a pawn of Rowena and the two vengeful women she’d lured to her service. They genuinely wanted their son/nephew back, Bobby thought, but he was sure, in an uneasy, shivering way, that they were uninterested in Kyra’s survival, only in her value to help retrieve Rafael. If this truly was where he had ended up, then her use by date was almost here.

“There,” Crowley said, his voice making Bobby start, after the quiet they’d maintained so far. He pointed, not to the white farmhouse they could now see to the left of the road, but over to the fields on the right, a grove of trees. “You keep on with Kyra, love. I’ll just have a bit of a look around the other side.”

“Don’t….” but the demon had vanished. Bobby sighed. “Port from here where anybody might see you do it,” he said to the air. Kyra looked around and paused to let Bobby catch up.

“He’d know if anyone was watching,” she said, spoiling it by adding, “Wouldn’t he? Anyway, he’s got that Don’t Look Now spell.’

“He has to set that up. And right now I don’t think he cares,” Bobby told her. He listened again, now catching faint voices tossed on the distant air. “We need to decide what to say to these people, whoever they are.”

“I’m going to ask if they know Rafael,” Kyra said in an isn’t-that-obvious voice. “We’re his friends and he went missing.”

“But how come we’re here and don’t know anything about where we are?” Bobby cautioned. 

Kyra turned about to face him. “You said it was my hunt,” she said.

“It is. But you gotta think ahead. Now _listen_ to me. We are not sayin’ anything about magic or alternate dimensions or anything like that. We’re just hikers; you and me at least look the part now Crowley and his fancy suit have taken themselves out of the picture. We don’t say anythin’ to show we don’t have a clue where we are. Can we refill our water bottles at their place, we say, that’s all. Now the spell should have taken us close to where Rafael is. If we’re real lucky we might see him. If not, we go back and _then_ we plan some more. Then we can be here for longer. If you just rush in and start throwing Rafe’s name around, who knows what will happen? Are you hearin’ me, Kyra?”

She was looking at him and so far as he knew, her hearing was normal, so the answer had to be yes. But everything in her body language indicated defiance. Bobby waited. If he’d learned anything from his violent father and from John Winchester’s erratic parenting of Sam and Dean, it was that you had to know when you could push and when you couldn’t. Neither of those men had ever known. Kyra had to know, now, that her wishes didn’t count for much with Rowena and the other witches. After they had dropped her into zombie holocaust world, she _had_ to know. But she was still fourteen.

Kyra met his eyes and finally, _finally_ nodded. Bobby let his breath out carefully. _I am too damn old to be raising a teenager_ , he thought, but made a mental note to tell Crowley that later. He’d get a laugh out of it. 

“I’m going up ahead,” she said.

“Sure. I’ll just potter along here and admire the flowers.”

She jogged off without even listening.

“Hikers don’t run!” Bobby called after her and she didn’t answer that either. But she did slow down. He saw her turn off the main road on to an unsurfaced laneway which appeared to go towards the grove of trees, evidently a thoroughfare to take you along that boundary of the farm. Bobby wished Crowley would get back; what in hell could be keeping him?

Kyra was getting too far ahead for his liking and Bobby increased his pace a little, hoping she’d stick to the story. Then reality blurred in front of his eyes and Crowley was standing in front of her. He caught up in time to catch the tone of an argument.

“……talked about it,” Kyra was saying, waving her arm back towards Bobby. “What’s going on that means we can’t do that? It’s just people talking, isn’t it?”

“It’s not people,” Crowley said. He waited for a dramatic pause. “I watched from cover, don’t worry. They’re having some kind of awful outdoors meal on some rugs….”

“You mean a picnic?” Bobby asked. “Not-people are having a picnic?”

“Werewolves,” Crowley sighed. “Within a space of 10 minutes I saw them flipping into wolf form and back to human. All naked, by the way. Very nice physiques…”

“If they’re changin’ I would imagine they’d have to be naked,” Bobby began, painfully aware of Crowley’s grin.

“So you don’t want me to see them nude?” Kyra got there at last.

Crowley looked about, elaborately shading his eyes and turned back to them. “I would imagine that in the time we’ve been standing here in the open, loudly exercising our jaws, our scents have been picked up and the werewolves are now dressed in the clothes that were thrown around on the ground in that field and under the trees. So that’s a moot point. “

“So they won’t know that we know,” Kyra said, walking around him to keep going. “Why even tell us?” There was something else. Bobby could see it in Crowley’s face even if Kyra couldn’t, not that she was looking at him. He winked out and back in again to block her path. “Hey!”

“There’s no need for us to approach them,” Crowley said.

“So you didn’t see Rafael there! That doesn’t mean we can’t follow the plan and find out more about this place…..”

“Stop yellin’, “ Bobby cautioned. “If Crowley’s right and I’m sure he is, even if I didn’t know a werewolf personally, those people are gonna be out here to see who’s approaching. And Crowley, you’re gonna stick out like a sore whatever in that suit.”

Crowley sighed and muttered a spell, or at least Bobby assumed that was what it was. His suit blurred on him and became a casual long sleeved shirt and jeans, a backpack over his shoulders. “Better?”

“You should be sweating,” said Bobby, looking him over. Crowley rolled his eyes and jogged on the spot for a few seconds. The hunter gave it up and called out to Kyra, who had continued on. “Wait for us.”

The path veered away from the trees and the field they sheltered, Bobby saw with some relief, and then realised that those they were seeking weren’t going to leave it to chance that these visitors would just keep going. Two people, a man and a woman, had emerged from the trees’ cover and were heading straight for them, to a gate in the fence which Kyra had almost reached. 

They looked like your everyday rural couple, middle-aged or a bit more, both in plaid shirts and jeans. The man’s shirt was unbuttoned and loose over his shoulders, which was a bit unusual. The woman waved to Kyra, who stopped, hands on her backpack straps. She was saying something and Kyra was answering; a bit nervous but doing okay. Bobby knew he couldn’t rush up, that wouldn’t look right at all.

Crowley stayed by his side as they walked up. Silent for once. That meant the demon was leaving it to him to take the lead. Crowley knew Bobby could more readily muster the kind of laid back folksiness which would hopefully put these two at ease and hopefully elicit some information.

“Afternoon,” he greeted. “Hope we aren’t botherin’ you. I’m Bobby Singer, this is my partner Fergus and our foster-daughter Kyra. I trust we’re not intruding on your land?”

The man looked at him. He was powerfully built, though he was no more than Crowley’s height. Dark reddish hair and a penetrating gaze. Not precisely unfriendly but wary. “No, this is our boundary,” he answered at last. “Are you headed anywhere in particular?”

Canadian, Bobby decided. They were further north than he had supposed. “Just on a day hike,” he said. “Would we be able to fill our water bottles before we head back to the main road?” He glanced at the woman, who was strikingly attractive despite being, he suspected, not that much younger than Bobby himself, then caught the man’s glare and looked hastily away from her. _Alpha werewolf_ , he reminded himself. These weren’t the kind of werewolves he knew, but some things remained constant, it seemed. Quickly he made himself pay attention to the man again. Looked at him, then looked deliberately to the side, away from both of them. 

“That seems fair enough, Stuart,” the woman murmured. She looked at Kyra, not at Bobby or Crowley. “Your fastest way to the main road is actually back the way you came. This lane is only going to lead you further away from it. There’s a positive nest of roads that will add a couple of hours to your walk. I’d suggest you head back down the road after you get your water and go left….” She gave a few more directions which Bobby hardly listened to, since it looked like Kyra was doing a good job of appearing attentive.

“Fine, you can do that,” Stuart muttered. “I’ll get my grandson to guide you. Nathan! Get over here now.”

A boy appeared so quickly that it seemed he’d been lurking. He gave his grandfather an embarrassed look. _Caught eavesdropping_ , Bobby thought. He hadn’t doubted Crowley but now he was doubly sure. Stuart had known he was nearby because he’d picked up his scent. And then he stiffened as he saw the boy clearly. Could it be….but no. This kid was amazingly like Rafael to behold but he was too young, nine or ten years old at the most. He wore shorts and a blue sweatshirt which he’d donned back to front. Kyra was also staring at the boy and Bobby was terrified she’d blurt something out to give them all away.

“These folks need to fill their water bottles. Take them over to the faucet by the house,” Stuart said, a bare-chested general. The boy nodded and looked shyly at Kyra.

“C’mon, I”ll show you.”

“Then take them as far as the turnoff and point them towards the main road,” Stuart added. _Make sure they leave,_ Bobby translated. Kyra was visibly reluctant as she followed the boy, but she did go. Bobby glanced back and saw the two senior werewolves watching them.

“My grandad can be pretty scary but he’s okay,” the boy said to Kyra, grinning.

“He doesn’t seem to like visitors much.”

“I guess not.”

“Has your family lived here a long time?”

“I guess. There’s a lot of us. My mom and dad run the farm over that way, towards the national forest. Some good walks there. “ Nathan chatted as he walked towards his grandparents’ house. They learned that the nearest town was called London and was about 10 kilometres away, that one of his uncles was a cop and still lived here and another uncle and his family lived here too. “But my dad only moved here when he was a bit older than me.”

“I thought this was your mom’s birth family, not your dad,” Kyra said, a bit befuddled by all the family information. “So he wouldn’t have lived here till he was grown up, right?”

Nathan shot a look at her, evidently belatedly realising that he needed to be careful. He plucked nervously at the neck of his sweatshirt as though wishing to be rid of it. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Here’s the faucet.” He marched up to it at the side of the big white farmhouse and reached to uncoil a hose from around it. “I can fill them for you if you want.”

They surrendered the bottles – Crowley’s so shiny new that it appeared no one had ever used it, which would be right – and Nathan carefully filled each one, paying full attention to the task. That gave Kyra more time to look at him, her confusion growing as she saw how like Rafael he was. She looked at Crowley, whose expression was wary.

“You know something,” she said. 

Nathan looked from one to the other, knowing something wasn’t right but having no idea what. “You know what, I think I should call one of my uncles. He can help you better than me,” he began to say and then froze. Literally. His mouth was half open and his eyes now stared sightlessly at nothing.

“ _Crowley_ ,” Bobby growled.

The demon ignored him, moving to stand in front of the boy. He made a gesture and a murmured word and Nathan blinked and focused on him, seemingly normal. “You will answer my questions,” Crowley said in his usual conversational tone.

“Yes,” came from Nathan.

“What is your name?”

“Nathan Heerkens.”

With the spell in play, Bobby knew it could be dangerous to interrupt again. He caught Kyra’s eye to be sure she would be silent, placed a finger to his lips. She nodded tensely.

“What is your mother’s name?”

“Jennifer Heerkens.”

“Is that the name she took when she married?”

Nathan’s face showed his struggle. Come on, Crowley, he’s ten, Bobby thought, willing the demon to get it. “Uh, that’s my family’s name, the Heerkens,” the boy said. “It’s Dutch.”

“Crowley,” Kyra blurted, “someone’s coming.”

The demon didn’t miss a pace. He murmured again and Bobby saw the spell fade from Nathan’s eyes. The boy held a last drink canister out towards Crowley who took it with a murmur of thanks. “My granddad said to show you the road,” the boy said, not seeming to notice he’d lost the past few moments. 

Bobby looked past Kyra, expecting to see Stuart or his mate but it was a younger man, who called out to the boy as he approached. “Nat! Stuart thought I’d better come and find you.”

“Hi, Dad,” Nathan said. He sounded a bit annoyed at being checked up on, to Bobby. 

Crowley murmured something which sounded like a curse. He reached out to grasp Kyra’s shoulder and turn her towards the road but she resisted the handling, as Bobby could have told him she would, shrugging his hand off and turning back to look at the man, the older werewolf, coming towards them. And then she stopped. Because it wasn’t right, he wasn’t right, but yet she somehow had no doubt as he walked right up to them, beside Nathan. He’d sired the boy young, for sure; Bobby guessed him at no more than thirty, maybe less than that. Slim and dark haired, not anything like the two adults they’d already seen.

He and Kyra stared at one another, their mutual shock reverberating all around them. Years passed in that horrified moment.

“Rafe,” Kyra said, husky and dry. “Rafael.”

“Dad?” Nathan asked, scared. “You know her?”

Rafael didn’t answer him.

“Get your grandfather,” Rafael said and Nathan sprang into action. The werewolves seemed to teach their kids obedience, at any rate, Bobby’s mind insisted on speculating. That finally left them without an audience and so of course they just stared at each other for several minutes.

“I thought you’d given up on me,” Rafael said. “A long time ago I realised you weren’t coming. Henry said I had to make a life here. He knew the magic to make sure I could, that I wouldn’t be ripped away to some other universe….”

“Who is Henry?” Crowley said sharply.

“He’s a friend of the Heerkens. A vampire.”

“It’s been a year and a day,” Kyra whispered. “I’ve been studying magic. I was with Rowena McLeod and….your mother and aunt. They put me in all these worlds, they dropped me in….said they were teaching me learn how to find you. But they didn’t care if I died. And I did it because I wanted to find you, to get you home.”

“Are they here?”

“No. Bobby and Crowley got me away from them.”

Rafael stared at her and nodded. “I believe you. I can see it. You’re still so little.”

“I’m fourteen.”

“I’m twenty eight years old. I married Stuart’s daughter Jennifer when I was nineteen. I took her name because, well, they know I’m from another world. Another Earth. I attract as little attention as I can here. I’m wer here, in this Earth, you know, a werewolf. No one knows how, not even Henry.” Rafael’s voice, so deep now, made the words with painful slowness. “You’re born wer, it’s not from being bitten like with the werewolves in your world. No one knows about them, they live hidden. They arrange matings among the packs but they agreed to this because there was no way I could be related to Jennifer. They allowed the in-pack mating and we moved to the neighbouring farm with a few of the younger relatives. Wer….don’t live alone, a single couple, it doesn’t happen.” The words poured out of him, shaking, and he never looked away from her. “I didn’t know.”

Fourteen years to one. Bobby started to count up the time they’d already been in this dimension. The boys would be freaking out.

“Can you get back before Stuart gets here?” Rafael said to Crowley. “It would be better. He’ll pick up my upset and I’ll have to tell him, he’s pack leader.”

“That why you told Nathan to get him?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think, I just said it. I can’t lie if he asks and he will. But if you’re gone, he won’t be able to find you. Nor will Henry. Henry’s a good guy – for a vampire – but his aim is to protect his people.”

“You’re his people?”

“Stuart would cut off an arm rather than admit it,” Rafael said, and raised his head slightly. “He’s on his way. You have to go. _Can_ you get back?”

Kyra stared at him. His urgency, the fact that it was about _them_ going, not him, shook her. After all she’d done and tried to do, he didn’t want to go home. After a handful of minutes reunied, he just wanted them – her – to go. It wasn’t home now, not to him. She wasn’t his friend any more.

“What do you want us to tell your mother?” Bobby asked. “And your aunt.”

“You know where they are?”

“They’re staying with my mother. Another witch,” Crowley added, the stinging note in his voice reaching Rafael and making him wince. “They’ve been very busy, they have.”

“Tell them I’m okay. Tell them - about the time thing.” Rafael focused on Kyra again and for a moment they were equals once more, as they’d been for that short time. “I’m sorry, Kyra!”

“I know.” She knew he couldn’t help it. The time difference had broken them apart and made Rafael someone else entirely. And now his people were on their way to him.

“That’s it?” Bobby asked. “You’re okay?”

“What if you do come back and it’s like Narnia?” Kyra asked suddenly.

“How like Narnia?” Crowley demanded but Bobby knew.

“I told you, remember? When the children return from Narnia after growing up there, the magic strips the years from them and they’re children again in our world. I don’t think so, Kyra. I wish it did work that way.” Bobby looked at the young man and could barely see the boy he had once been. “Come on. We have to be back at the spot where we entered and it’s nearly time. Come on.” Kyra let him move her, walking away and trying hard not to look back. She did look, of course, once they were back on the road and moving at the steady pace Bobby set. 

Rafael was not looking towards them. Kyra only saw the back of his head as he walked towards the stocky, muscular form of his pack leader. Stuart stopped, arms folded as he watched the interlopers leave and listened to whatever it was Rafael told him. Then he shrugged, not looking much concerned, patted Rafael’s shoulder and gave him a light push back towards the pack gathering.

After all, they weren’t part of his world and they were leaving.


	9. Chapter 9

Crowley didn’t wait.

They stepped out of the portal into Rowena’s temple, relieved to see the Winchesters right there, opposite the two glowering Catalano witches and Rowena herself. Crowley gave them barely seconds to see that Kyra was with them and Rafael not, before he caught his mortals up in a porting spell and rerouted them. He dropped the Winchesters ungently on the ground next to their car and left them there. Multi-tasking. You could do that when you were the King.

“I thought a lingering farewell might not be the best plan,” he said, perhaps two minutes later, at their front door. He wasn’t getting much attention; Bobby was leaning hard on the wall, gasping and trying not to vomit. Kyra wasn’t even trying and was bent over the porch railing, being sick into the rose bushes. 

Crowley looked from one to the other. “Hello?” Shrugging, he realised he wasn’t carrying a key and just performed an opening cantrip on the door. The other two staggered inside after him. _Right; note for future. Transdimensional portal followed by demon porting tends to upset mortal stomaches._

“You know,” he said, closing the door, “this only puts off the inevitable for as long as it takes them to regroup and come looking. Kyra, you’ll have to stand in front of them under a truthspell Rowena casts and tell them what’s happened about the boy. Though I suppose he’s not a boy any longer. And we need to get her to formally dissolve the geas, as you’ve fulfilled the reason she trained you in the first place. I’ll be there to back you up.”

“Hey, can’t that wait a few hours?” Bobby asked, dismayed and upset on Kyra’s behalf. She glowered at Crowley, who sent it back. “Come on, Crowley, what…”

“I don’t care,” Kyra said, shakily close to tears and angry because of it. “I don’t care if you’ll be there. I’m not scared of them. But I never want to see them again and they won’t believe me….”

“They will. They’ll have no choice if it’s Rowena’s truthspell,” the demon snarled. “And you should be scared, unless Bobby and I have been raising a total fool. “

“Oh, that’ll help,” Bobby murmured under his breath, making Crowley shoot him an annoyed look. But Kyra seemed distracted and didn’t rise to the bait, which bothered him. Still, he wished Crowley had at least left this until the morning. He’d forgotten how much mortals depended on sleep, never matter how much time he spent with Bobby. 

“I don’t want to,” Kyra said and walked towards her room. Crowley’s hand moved outward and he began to say something. A spell or just words, Bobby had no idea, but his own hand shot out and he grabbed the demon’s forearm before caution could stop him. Crowley’s eyes gleamed red as his attention switched to Bobby. All red this time, bloody and shining.

“No,” Bobby said, trying to sound calm and firm, not abruptly nervous. “Not tonight. Kyra’s sleep-deprived as hell and I’m not a whole lot better. Please! Stand down. You don’t want to be like Rowena, do you?”

That got him a long, fierce stare. He felt the tenseness of Crowley’s muscles under his grip. “That is very low, Robert,” the demon said at last and to Bobby’s relief he sounded like himself again.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been learning from the master. C’mon. Let’s go to bed too.”

“I’m staying on watch tonight, Robert,” Crowley said, shaking his head.

“You think she’ll try something this fast?”

“Yes. I would.”

Bobby studied him, then released his arm and leaned forward, kissing Crowley’s cheek. “I oughta stay up with you but I’m too damn tired. Call the boys, will you, put ‘em on guard.”

“I think they know, Robert.”

“True. Okay. But we’ve got a date for me to bang you through the mattress, once things quieten down.”

“Always the incurable romantic, Robert.”

“You better believe it,” Bobby growled, making Crowley laugh. His eyes settled back to hazel.

*

If the witches tried to breach the wardings, no one told Kyra. She slept suspiciously well and deeply, but no one – meaning Crowley – would admit to having anything to do with that either. In the morning, Crowley visited his mother alone. He came back ten minutes later, saying only, “We have an appointment.”

And they went to keep it.

*

Rowena McLeod’s eyes were like stones. Kyra didn’t know what Maria and Juanita’s eyes were like because she was grimly not looking at them. From the moment Crowley had ported them to the door and Bobby had knocked, she had stared down at her feet until the moment came.

Rowena might not even care, Kyra thought. She’d gotten the information she wanted. But the other two probably blamed her, even for what couldn’t be blamed.

The temple seemed very warm, with three witches, one hunter, one demon and one….whatever she was now….crammed in the small room. No fancy accoutrements this time. The normal electric light was on and the altar was covered with the black cloth indicating it was not in use. Rowena was chanting, the others silent but providing power to her. Crowley had explained that. Not Rowena. She had listened to Crowley with a look of indifference on her face and then said, “Very well. But _I_ set the spell.”

Crowley shrugged, just as though he hadn’t told Kyra and Bobby that this would happen. “If you really don’t trust me.”

“I really don’t.”

Kyra’s skin prickled with heat. But when she dared a quick look at Bobby beside her, he seemed fine. Not sweating at all. _Is this the spell?_ She wanted to ask, but she didn’t. Rowena had taught her that at least. You didn’t speak during a spell unless you were instructed to by the spellcaster. It was like messing with the driver of a car when you were sitting next to them. She had expected to see everything lit up blue, like in the movies, but if there was, she couldn’t see it.

“Now,” said Rowena, “tell us precisely what happened to you when you passed through the portal.”

Kyra felt her body tense up, every muscle, until she was scared she’d topple over. Then her throat seemed to unlock. “I was standing in this road with fields to either side, for only a couple of moments before Bobby and Crowley appeared….”

Several times Rowena stopped her and redirected, when Kyra, obeying what was clearly a form of geas, embarked on a too-detailed description of what she had seen to either side. Even when she hadn’t been aware of observing those things at the time. She just babbled on, unable to stop or to edit, in the throes of a panic that didn’t let her even slow down, unless Rowena directed.

Then she got to the moment when Rafael, aged to adulthood, had come walking up to check on his son. And broken her world. Kyra stammered with shame, hearing herself _say_ that, hearing “He called me little,” in her own voice, sobbing and gasping. And still Rowena stared at her, dragging every detail out like a hook from a fish’s mouth. Finally, at last, Kyra repeated Rafael’s last hurried words to his mother and aunt. Half-forgotten, part of a childhood in a world no longer his.

_“Tell them I’m okay. Tell them - about the time thing.”_

“And that was all?” Rowena demanded. 

“That was all the message,” Kyra said. “After that….”

She blurted the rest of it; her silly, childish hope about a Narnia-style reversion. Seeing Rafael go and not look back. Her stunned walk, feet feeling so heavy as she picked them up and set them down, walking between Crowley and Bobby back to the point where the portal would take them.

Abruptly she was cold. She had been sweating and now that sweat chilled her. The sudden change made her look up and see Rowena watching her. But she couldn’t hear anything. She turned in sudden panic and saw that Crowley was speaking, but again she couldn’t hear. “Hey, don’t do that!” she tried to yell, but no sound came from her either. The demon turned to her and held out his hand. Wanting to be angry with him, Kyra took it. And blinked, finding herself back in their house, with Bobby and Crowley and no one else. A huge enveloping sense of relief fell over her.

“You’re free from the geas,” Crowley said simply.

“What did you say? You did the magic mute button thing on me!”

His dark brows rose. “Trade secrets. You can’t know them yet.”

“They blame me, don’t they? Maria and Juanita. Because Rafael was with me and we sneaked out without telling you. That was why he fell through the portal. And if you hadn’t grabbed hold of me, I would have been in that place. I would have been one of them.”

“I suppose so.”

Kyra rubbed her eyes. “I’m really, really hungry. I’m going to grab a snack and go to bed.”

“Me too, darlin’,” Bobby muttered and followed her. Presently he said good night to her, after she assured him several times she would be all right and headed to her room. 

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Crowley said, when Bobby shot him an inquiring look. The hunter nodded and left him to it.

*

Kyra stood in her room, looking around in a weary daze. It felt like she hadn’t seen it for years, instead of two weeks ago. There _was_ dust on the desk and windowsill and those books had been due back at the library a month ago, but she’d forgotten. She felt a prickling at the back of her neck and turned slowly, knowing Crowley would be there.

“Rowena hates me now, doesn’t she?”

“Absolutely not,” he soothed. “You’re in no danger of taking my spot.”

Kyra managed a grin. She took off her jacket and went to hang it up in the closet, while Crowley sat on her bed. Then she joined him to take her boots off with a sigh of relief. “I’ve got blisters.”

“You’ll live, darling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kyra confessed. “I’ve been trying to get Rafael home for so long and trying to learn all that witch stuff and now it’s not happening. I don’t think he even remembered me that well.”

Crowley considered this and shrugged elaborately. “Hard for me to say. It’s far from the strangest thing that ever happened to me. Did I tell you how I brought up God’s sister from childhood to teenage years in a matter of weeks?”

“A few times,” Kyra agreed. His laid-back approach was quite calming; he clearly did not think her dilemma was even very important. Bobby might well talk to her about working through things and needing time, but you did not go to the King of Hell for that.

“If you want to learn more magic, I’ll add that to the home curriculum,” he said briskly. “It won’t be like learning from three actual witches but you will learn. If you still want to be a hunter, it’ll be very useful.”

“I think I _am_ a hunter. But yes. And you already did teach me a lot. Even Rowena had to admit that.” 

Crowley seemed pleased to hear it. “She’d swallow molten lead rather than say that to _me_ ,” he muttered. “Which I could arrange.”

“About school, though, if you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind going back to the proper school for a bit. And studying the other stuff on weekends, maybe, when there’s time.”

“You _make_ time,” the demon retorted. “What else do you plan to do? Dating? Because I warn you, Bobby will now be in a mood to see off any boy with his shotgun until you pass the age of eighteen.”

He grinned suddenly, evidently finding this highly amusing. Kyra shrugged, not knowing how she felt about that idea right now, yet feeling better for his words. “Thanks,” she said. “I think.” She leaned over and put her arms around him, feeling Crowley stiffen for a moment in surprise and then return the embrace. He was solid and warm and felt like safety. “Good night, Crowley.”

*

Bobby sat down heavily on his bed, still fully dressed, feeling as though he would never get up again. He heard Crowley’s voice, talking to Kyra in her room, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. They seemed calm, which was the main thing. Presently the demon came into the bedroom. “I hope that’s not where you’re stopping,” he said, giving a disparaging flick to Bobby’s sleeve.

“Is Kyra okay?”

“She wants to go back to the real school.”

“Oh. Okay,” Bobby said, bemused. He stood reluctantly and slowly began to undress. “I was thinking; maybe we should move.”

“Absolutely, and you _must_ let me choose the place next time.”

“What do you know about it? You moved from a mansion to a filthy deserted asylum….”

“You only know what Sam and Dean told you, you were in Heaven….”

“C’mon, they had pictures. It was a shitpile.”

Crowley unfastened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I needed to keep a low profile, love,” he said, relenting. “Now not quite so essential. So what’s set off this recent urge to migrate? Three hours away from Rowena not far enough?”

“There _is_ that,” Bobby agreed. He chuckled. “That should be my line to you. I don’t know – this place was just what we could find when we got back here. I’d like to find somewhere more permanent to homestead. I think things are going to be unstable for awhile. Apocalypse doesn’t go away just like that, no matter what you do to people’s memories. And you know Kyra’s right; those witches are gonna hold a grudge. I think we might be better out of the way for a bit. Further away and somewhere they don’t know.”

“Cabin in the woods then.”

He was bare to the waist now and Bobby’s thoughts were pleasantly distracted as he watched the play of the bright dragon tattoos over Crowley’s broad shoulders and chest as he tidily hung up his suit. Crowley was stripping off his boxers when he looked back at him, giving Bobby a wicked grin as he got into bed beside him. “Come check out this real estate first then, darling.”


End file.
